UC-NRLF 


ITY  OF  CALIF 


32106017226207 


•A- 


CHECKERED  IIFE. 


COL.  JOHN    A.  JOYCE. 


There  's  a  divinity  that  shapes  our  ends,  rough  hew  them  how  we  may.7' 

—  SJi  akespcare. 
Variety  is  the  very  spice  of  life,  that  gives  it  all  its  flavor." 


Homo  sum  et  nil  humanum  a  me  alienum  puto." 

—  Terence. 


CHICAGO : 

S.  P.  ROUNDS,  Jr.,  175  Monroe  Street 
1883.  - 


Entered  according  to  act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1883, 

S.  P.  ROUNDS,  Jr., 
in  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress, 


ELECTROTYPED  BY  THE    ROUNDS   TYPE  AND   PRESS  CO. 


,  5 


INDEX. 


CHAPTER  I.                                     PAGE 
Birthplace  and  Ancestry 17 

CHAPTER  II. 
School-boy  Days 19 

CHAPTER  III. 
School  in  Montgomery  County 25 

CHAPTER  IV. 

A  Description  of  Lunatic  Fancies 31 

CHAPTER  V. 
Kentucky  in  Early  War-Days 46 

CHAPTER  VI. 
History  of  the  Twenty-fourth  Kentucky  Regiment  50 

CHAPTER  VII. 
The  Battle  of  Shiloh 58 

CHAPTER  VIII. 
Corinth  ahd  Alabama  Campaign 63 

CHAPTER  IX. 
Bragg 's  Raid  and  Other  Kentucky  Matters 72 

CHAPTER  X. 
Louisville  Experiences 77 

CHAPTER  XI. 

Knoxville  Expedition 86 

CHAPTER  XII. 
The  Siege  of  Knoxville 92 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

Chattanooga  and  Atlanta 104 


8  INDEX 

CHAPTER  XIV. 
Kencsaw  Mountain : j  j  -. 

CHAPTER  XV. 
Battles  About  Atlanta  ; \2o 

CHAPTER  XVI. 

Leaving  the  Army. — Experience  as  a  School-Teacher 1 28 

CHAPTER  XVII. 
Tax-Collector  and  Candidate  for  Legislature 1 34 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 
Studying  Law  in  Dubuque  138 

CHAPTER  XIX. 
Washington  City  and  its  People 142 

CHAPTER  XX. 
Washington — its  Romantic  and  Material  Elements 150 

CHAPTER  XXI. 
Impeachment  of  Pres't  Johnson. — Leaving  the  Internal  Revenue  Office   158 

CHAPTER  XXII. 
Official  and  Personal  Experiences  in  Missouri  164 

CHAPTER  XXIII. 

Decoration-Day  at  Jefferson  Barracks 1 70 

CHAPTER  XXIV. 

Effort  to  Obtain  a  Foreign  Mission. — Oration  at  an  Emancipation  Cele- 
bration     177 

CHAPTER  XXV. 

The  Pacific  Coast. — Experiences  and  Incidents   in  California,  Oregon 

and  Washington  Territory 1 86 

CHAPTER  XXVI. 

Return  from  California. — Visit  to  Brigham  Young. — Pen   Sketches  of 

Old  Friends  and  Associates 216 

CHAPTER  XXVII. 

The  WhisKey  Troubles. — Indictment,  Trial  and  Imprisonment. — Ad- 
dress to  the  Court  and  jury,  etc 237 

General  F.  E.  Spinner's  Autograph  Letter -.   245 

General  Sherman's  Autograph  Inscription 247 

CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

Prison  Reform 267 

Fac  Simile  Letter  of  Chauncey  I.  Filley 280 


INDEX.  9 

CHAPTER  XXIX. 
The  Sylph  Dispatch , 281 

Fac  Simile  Letter  of  General  Babcock 284 

CHAPTER  XXX. 

Pardon  and  Other  Matters 287 

Autograph  Letter  of  President  Hayes 298 

Conclusion , ,,,,, , 300 


POETIC  WAIFS. 

Kiss  While  You  Can 303 

Katie  and  1 204 

My  Baby's  Eyes 304 

Twenty  Years 305 

Dreaming 305 

The  Sunbeam 306 

A  Toast 306 

God  is  Near 307 

Forgetting 307 

Waiting 308 

Mattievan  308 

Mazy 309 

The  First  Kiss 309 

My  Little  Robins 310 

Masonic  Bright  Light 311 

Toll  the  Bell 312 

My  War-Hor.«,e,  "Bob." 312 

Ocean  M emories 313 

When  I  am  Dead 314 

The  Days  are  Growing  Shorter  314 

Oak  Hill 3!5 

The  Attorney-at-Law 3l6 

Unknown 3*7 


PREFACE. 


There  is  no  human  life  without  its  lesson.  Every  bud  that 
grows  gives  promise  of  leaf  and  fruit ;  every  wind  wafted  over 
the  ocean  of  life  brings  pleasure  or  pain  to  some  heart. 

Providence  has  visited  me  with  a  variety  of  misfortunes,  yet 
like  Job  I  have  borne  the  trials  without  complaint,  and  with 
fortitude  waited  silently  for  redemption  and  peace. 

This  volume  is  true  from  beginning  to  end ;  and  shows  the 
milestones  of  a  human  life  that  may  guide  some  pilgrim  around 
the  quicksands  I  encountered. 

The  world  has  misunderstood  me  in  the  past ;  and  now,  after 
eight  years  of  silence,  I  give  for  my  family,  friends  and  gen- 
erous hearts,  the  whole  truth  of  a  checkered  life. 

The  detailed  history  of  the  24th  Kentucky  Union  Regiment, 
from  Lexington,  Shiloh,  Perryville,  Nashville,  Knoxville,  Ken- 
esawMountain  and  Atlanta  is  given  in  full  from  daily  memo- 
randa made  by  a  soldier  who  saw  and  felt  the  weariness  of 
march  and  shock  of  battle. 

Thousands  of  living  mortals  can  testify  to  the  veracity  of 
my  statements. 

Seldom  has  a  man  of  forty  run  the  gauntlet  of  waif,  scholar, 
lunatic,  soldier,  schoolmaster,  poet,  politician,  orator,  lawyer, 
prisoner  and  patriot. 

He  that  runs  may  read,  ponder,  and  beware. 

J.  A.  J. 


I  •  dedicafe  •  cul  •  irjoif  :  is  •  ^©©0.  •  <ztr)d  •  90  laic. 


ifje  •  sf©prr)s  •  ®p  rr)isj©:rf  ur)e  • 


ir)  •  rjer5  •  l©^e  •  0:r)0.  • 


•  p 


cetce 


i!^  •  srjc  •  w&s-eei)XGcl  •  Gcrjd.  •  yr)d?  •  <ztr)<a 


r)  • 


sre 


•  cr)illir)q  •  blccsf  s  •  ©p  crd^ersii^  •  sr) 
f  p©uble  •  v^ifi)  •  jjeroic  •  ealnjrjcss  •  ar)<a 


©ECKEREDIIFE 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE. 


CHAPTER  I. 

BIRTH-PLACE    AND    ANCESTRY. 

My  father  was  the  youngest  of  seven  children.  He  was  the 
favorite  of  his  mother,  and  his  nature  was  more  generous  than 
that  of  any  other  member  of  the  family.  At  the  early  age  of 
seventeen  he  became  a  husband,  running  away  from  school 
with  my  mother,  who  was  only  fourteen  years  old.  They  had 
known  each  other  from  childhood,  separated  only  by  a  salmon 
stream  that  ran  by  the  village  of  Shraugh,  near  Westport,  on 
the  western  shore  of  Ireland. 

The  parents  of  my  father  were  dead  when  the  runaway 
match  occurred,  and  as  the  old  stone  house  in  the  village  re- 
mained in  charge  of  the  youngest  son  and  sister,  the  newly 
fledged  couple  immediately  began  the  cares  of  married  life  in 
the  old  home.  A  small  holding  of  land,  a  horse,  cow,  sheep, 
pigs  and  poultry  constituted  their  worldly  wealth ;  and  with 
a  heart  as  light  as  the  mountain  air  my  father  tilled  the  soil, 
tended  his  flocks,  and  drew  upon  the  river  and  sea  for  luxuries 
to  supply  his  humble  board.  The  village  acknowledged  him 
a  leader  in  whatever  he  undertook,  and  although  his  youth  and 
wayward  nature  aroused  opposition,  the  old  people  would  list- 
en to  his  counsel  and  act  upon  his  judgment.  He  had  a  good 
education  for  the  time.  What  he  lacked  in  the  embellishment 

17 


i8 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE. 


of  scholastic  arts  he  made  up  in  natural  attainments  culled 
from  the  winding  road  of  observation.  When  the  labors  of 
the  day  were  ended,  he  wandered  into  the  mountain  wilds  to 
enjoy  a  dash  after  salmon,  in  defiance  of  landlord  laws  that 
put  an  embargo  upon  what  God  and  nature  intended  for  toil- 
ing man.  The  beasts  of  the  field,  the  birds  of  the  air,  and 
the  fishes  of  the  sea  were  registered  by  English  laws  for  the 
benefit  of  a  few  petty  tyrants,  while  the  glorious  sons  of  labor 
were  denied  everything  that  improved  and  elevated  their  men- 
tal and  physical  condition.  The  dance  and  wake  were  attend- 
ed to  in  proper  form,  while  fights,  foot-races  and  all  feats  of 
strength  never  missed  the  presence  of  my  father,  who  bore  off 
laurels  in  many  hard  contested  struggles  for  village  honors. 
Thus  the  days  and  months  went  by  until  the  4th  of  July,  1842, 
ushered  into  life  your  humble  servant. 

My  mother  was  not  quite  fifteen  years  old  when  I  was  born. 
She  had  fair  hair,  bright  blue  eyes,  a  rounded  form,  and  could 
dance  and  sing  with  the  gayest  girls  in  the  village.  Mother 
and  father  have  long  since  passed  into  eternity,  where  I  soon 
shall  join  them  in  the  realms  of  the  majority. 


CHAPTER  II. 

SCHOOL-BOY    DAYS. 

In  the  year  1846  my  father  emigrated  to  America  to  seek 
amid  the  wilds  of  a  new  world  that  peace,  prosperity  and  equal- 
ity denied  him  in  the  land  of  his  birth.  Soon  afterwards  my 
mother,  brother  Thomas  and  myself  picked  up  our  worldly 
goods,  bid  a  hearty  good-bye  to  weeping  relatives  and  friends, 
and  embarked  for  the  long  voyage  across  the  Atlantic  to  the 
port  of  New  York.  We  joined  my  father  near  Saratoga, 
where  he  was  engaged  in  the  building  of  a  railroad  to  White- 
hall. Our  cottage  was  very  humble,  situated  on  the  skirt  of 
a  pine  wood,  overlooking  a  wild  stream  that  roared  incessantly 
to  the  sighing  melody  of  tall  trees  that  lined  its  banks.  Win- 
ter soon  set  in.  I  remember  the  village  of  Gansvoort  as  en- 
veloped in  a  winding  sheet  of  snow,  and  the  country  roads 
choked  with  extensive  contributions  from  the  realm  of  Jack 
Frost.  The  old  forked  stumps  that  fenced  the  highways  reared 
their  blackened  arms  above  the  snow,  and  impressed  the  be- 
holder with  a  sense  of  loneliness.  My  young  heart  shuddered 
at  the  forbidding  scene,  and  longed  for  the  spring-time,  when 
I  was  promised  initiation  into  the  village  school.  The  King 
of  the  North  at  last  released  his  cold  grasp  upon  Dame  Nature. 
The  sleigh-bells  ceased  jingling,  the  ice  in  the  river  broke  into 
fragments,  the  snow  on  the  hills  melted  in  the  sunshine,  the 
tall  trees  shook  off  their  frozen  jackets,  the  snowbirds  flew 
away  to  the  land  of  frost,  the  bluebirds  came  tuning  up  the 
orchestra  of  love,  fluttering  in  the  highways,  and  building  their 
nests  in  secret  spots  of  the  forest ;  the  green  grass,  forget-me- 
nots,  violets  and  trailing  arbutus  peeped  out,  and  seeing  that 

19 


20  A  CHECKERED  LIFE. 

Jack  Frost  had  departed,  nodded  their  beautiful  heads  in  lov- 
ing unity,  and  with  perfumed  breath  called  in  the  delights  of 
genial  Spring. 

In  the  spring  of  1850  my  parents  moved  from  New  York  to 
Kentucky.  We  settled  for  a  short  time  in  Maysville,  on  the 
Ohio  River,  sixty  miles  north  of  Cincinnati,  where  my  uncle 
presided  as  priest  over  the  Catholic  church.  We  moved  to 
Mayslick  in  a  few  months,  where  my  father  had  charge  of  the 
repairs  of  the  Lexington  pike.  I  went  to  school  in  the  town, 
and  afterwards  in  the  country. 

We  went  to  Wheeling,  Virginia,  in  the  year  1851.  I  again 
entered  school,  where  professors  and  rude  boys  led  me  a  mis- 
erable life.  In  the  basement  of  the  old  Catholic  cathedral  I 
learned  the  rudiments  of  education.  Lindley  Murray  and  his 
rules  I  could  repeat  as  fast  as  rain  pattering  on  a  roof,  but  I  am 
conscious  even  to  this  day  that  nouns,  verbs,  adverbs  and  con- 
junctions were  simply  a  string  of  words  to  be  remembered. 

I  remained  about  two  years  at  the  cathedral  school.  It  was 
the  purpose  of  some  of  my  friends  to  fit  me  for  the  priesthood, 
and  to  this  end  I  was  initiated  into  the  good  graces  of  the  rul- 
ing spirits  of  the  church.  Professor  Park  took  a  particular 
fancy  to  me,  as  did  Fathers  Brazell  and  Durnin.  I  was  also 
made  known  to  good  old  Bishop  Whalan,  who  honored  me 
with  his  friendship. 

Late  in  the  year  1854  my  parents  moved  from  Wheeling  to 
Moundsville,  twelve  miles  below,  where  the  Baltimore  &  Ohio 
Railroad  first  touched  the  beautiful  Ohio.  The  village  is  situ- 
ated in  a  triangular  valley,  backed  by  high  rolling  hills,  dotted 
with  rare  Indian  mounds,  and  watered  on  the  south-east  by  a 
trout  stream,  where  bones  from  Indian  graves  protrude  from 
the  banks  of  the  crooked  stream.  One  of  the  largest  mounds 
in  America  can  be  seen  in  this  town,  where  gnarled  oaks  of 
centuries  have  grown  and  now  bedeck  the  mausoleum  of  some 
buried  tribe  that  lived,  perhaps,  before  the  American  Indian 
crossed  from  Asia  to  this  continent.  Who  were  the  mound- 
builders?  Where  did  they  come  from,  and  why  is  there  no 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE.  21 

written  record  to  tell  the  story  of  their  rise  and  fall  ?  These 
questions  are  easily  asked,  but  not  to  be  truthfully  answered  by 
men  of  to-day.  We  find  household  implements  and  agricul- 
tural machines  buried  in  the  same  mounds  that  hide  moulder- 
ing bones,  and  stone,  iron  and  golden  instruments  fashioned 
into  beautiful  and  useful  shapes,  but  no  history  of  the  brain 
that  invented  or  the  hand  that  manufactured  them. 

I  re-entered  school  in  the  old  brick  seminary  under  the 
shadow  of  the  great  mound.  Mr.  Chattuck  was  the  principal, 
and  had  taught  in  the  town  for  more  than  thirty  years.  Many 
of  the  prominent  citizens  had  been  his  pupils,  and  he  was 
respected  and  loved  by  all. 

I  continued  in  school  at  Moundsville  until  vacation,  but  in 
the  fall,  from  some  unknown  freak,  left  home  to  seek  my  for- 
tune and  see  the  world.  For  more  than  a  year  I  became  a  wan- 
dering waif,  working  in  hotels,  stores  and  printing  offices,  and 
going  from  steamboat  to  steamboat  in  various  capacities.  On 
first  leaving  home  I  boarded  the  magnificent  steamer,  City  of 
Wheeling,  on  one  of  her  regular  trips  to  Cincinnati,  with  but 
three  dollars  in  my  pocket.  The  pilot  took  me  under  his  care, 
and  promised  if  I  remained  with  him  to  make  a  young  boy 
into  a  first-class  pilot. 

Night  after  night  I  turned  into  my  bunk  tired,  and  often 
heartsick  and  lonely,  thinking  of  home  and  absent  friends. 
How  I  shivered  those  dark,  cold,  windy  mornings,  rushing 
along  over  the  hurricane  deck  or  crouched  in  the  pilot-house ! 
The  strokes  of  the  great  paddle-wheels  and  the  hoarse  sigh  of 
the  tall  escape-pipes  echoing  among  the  silent  hills  sent  a 
thrill  of  mournful  music  through  every  fiber  of  my  frame,  and 
even  now  awakens  memories  of  the  long  ago.  One  morning, 
standing  on  the  stern  of  the  boat,  with  none  in  view  save  the 
form  of  the  pilot  seen  through  the  thick  shadows  of  early 
dawn,  I  looked  fondly  upon  the  ghostlike  waves  that  rolled  in 
the  track  of  the  steamer,  and  almost  longed  to  bury  my  sad 
soul  in  the  troubled  waters.  I  had  about  determined  to 
commit  suicide  and  blot  out  forever  my  troubles.  Some  kind 


22  A  CHECKERED  LIFE. 

voice  lured  me  back  to  reason,  when  sunbeams  flashed  across 
the  river,  the  feeling  of  despondency  was  gone,  and  I  ran  into 
the  pilot-house  to  hold  down  the  wheel  while  the  pilot  drank 
a  cup  of  black  coffee. 

We  arrived  in  due  time  at  Cincinnati,  where  the  boat  lay 
two  days  discharging  and  receiving  freight  and  passengers. 

The  night  before  the  boat  started  up  the  river,  George  Pep- 
per and  myself  went  to  Wood's  museum,  where  I  saw  all  kinds 
of  curious  things  and  heard  some  unearthly  sounds.  After  the 
performance,  in  going  to  the  boat,  I  became  separated  from 
the  pilot,  and  wandered  for  some  time  about  the  silent  city. 
Under  the  shadow  of  the  Spencer  House  I  paused  to  rest  and 
think.  The  hour  was  midnight ;  fitful  gusts  of  wind  swept 
over  the  stony  streets,  and  made  wierd  sounds  around  the  gas 
lamps,  the  lights  of  which  rose  and  fell  like  tapers  in  a  sick- 
room. The  sound  of  distant  footfalls  broke  upon  my  ears, 
and  then  was  hushed  into  silence.  The  policeman's  club  sent 
its  startling  echoes  down  the  deserted  streets  to  some  fellow 
watcher.  The  clock  in  the  tower  struck  twelve,  and  the  re- 
sounding tones  echoed  among  the  walnut  hills  and  over  the 
placid  river  like  an  invitation  to  prayer  when  the  host  bells 
sound  in  grand  cathedral  aisles.  The  city  slumbered  in  repose; 
love,  beauty  and  confidence  were  pillowed  in  the  soft  embrace 
of  sleep,  and  dreaming  perchance  of  yon  blue  realm  where 
hope  leads  on  to  eternal  life.  The  good,  true  and  wise  rested 
from  the  labors  of  the  day,  while  the  bad,  false  and  poor  wan- 
dered over  the  earth  like  uneasy  spirits  wafted  by  every  breeze 
that  filled  the  night  with  solemn  cadence,  knowing  not  where 
to  lay  their  weary  heads  or  quiet  their  troubled  hearts. 

In  this  solemn  hour  I  beheld  a  poor  female  waif  approach 
from  a  line  of  empty  store  boxes  that  skirted  the  pavement, 
while  a  lean,  hungry  dog  followed  at  her  heels — perhaps  the 
only  friend  she  had  on  earth.  In  her  arms  she  held  an  infant, 
and  in  her  eye  glistened  the  tear  of  pain  and  sorrow.  Her 
look  was  pitiful  and  innocent,  her  flowing  hair  straggling  in 
wild  confusion  down  her  ragged  shoulders,  and  tossed  about 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE.  23 

by  the  chilly  night  wind.  She  could  not  have  been  more  than 
sixteen  years  old,  yet  the  melancholy  lines  that  marked  her 
sweet  face  gave  her  the  appearance  of  twenty.  The  babe  cried 
from  cold  and  hunger,  and  the  youthful  mother  begged  me  for 
assistance.  I  emptied  my  pockets  of  all  they  contained — 
thirty-five  cents — took  off  my  coat  and  threw  it  over  the  shiv- 
ering mother  and  child.  I  then  found  my  way  to  the  boat, 
for  the  night  was  crisp  and  cool,  found  my  bunk  in  the  Texas, 
and  pondered  painfully  upon  the  vicissitudes  and  misfortunes 
of  this  unjust  world.  That  whole  night  I  lay  awake  thinking 
of  the  poor  child  of  poverty  and  disgrace,  who  wandered  an 
outcast  in  the  streets  of  a  rich  city  while  her  betrayer  slept 
in  silken  couches,  drank  champagne,  and  laughed  the  hours 
away  in  company  with  beautiful  belles  who  rivalled  each  other 
for  his  hand.  Ah,  girls,  beware  lest  the  fate  of  the  poor  waif 
be  yours  !  Libertinism  has  no  line  to  mark  its  bounds,  no 
standard  to  measure  its  audacity,  and  no  law  to  limit  its  terri- 
rible  consequences;  but  is  ever  seeking,  plotting  and  betraying 
the  holiest  sanctuaries  of  affection.  Avoid  it  as  an  asp  that 
stings  and  kills !  Like  the  Upas  tree,  the  crime  of  the  gay, 
luxurious  villian  blights  everything  it  touches,  leaving  nothing 
but  ruin  in  his  blistering  track.  The  spruce,  smiling  fraud 
who  kneels  at  your  feet  is  the  viper  that  stings  when  your  inno- 
cent love  warms  him  into  confidence,  and  while  pleading  at 
the  altar  of  love,  he  is  plotting  for  the  violation  of  chastity. 
The  strong  battlements  of  your  womanhood  are  despoiled  and 
desecrated  when  the  angel  of  love  sleeps  on  guard.  You 
awaken  like  one  out  of  some  terrible  dream,  gazing  about  in 
wild  frenzy  for  the  form  of  your  honorable  (?)  lover,  and  find 
he  has  vanished  forever,  leaving  a  broken  heart  and  ruined 
character,  dashed  down  like  some  stately  structure  in  a  storm. 
For  more  than  a  year  I  was  employed  as  a  pilot,  going  up 
and  down  the  Ohio  and  Mississippi  rivers ;  and  in  the  solemn 
midnight  hour,  when  all  were  wrapped  in  slumber — when  the 
stars  sparkled  in  the  river,  the  harvest  moon  made  a  pathway 
on  the  water,  and  the  hills  answered  back  the  laboring  voice 


24  'A  CHECKERED  LIFE. 

of  the  roaring  steamer — my  poetic  heart  would  drink  in  the 
romantic  scene  and  soar  into  illimitable  realms  of  fancy.  The 
good,  the  beautiful  and  true  always  found  a  lodgment  in  my 
heart,  and  even  when  the  world  pursued  me  with  the  howl  of 
bloodhounds  I  could  smile  and  forgive  the  sordid  crowd  who 
follow  in  the  wake  of  any  success,  or  pounce  like  hungry 
wolves  upon  the  prostrate  form  of  some  devoted  victim.  I 
pity  the  ignorant,  unthinking  rabble,  and  regard  their  efforts 
to  torture  with  contempt,  knowing  that  the  wrong  of  yesterday 
may  be  the  right  of  to-day;  and  when  oblivion  shall  have 
swallowed  up  the  common  herd,  I  may  live  in  some  good  word 
spoken  in  life. 

One  night  on  my  way  up  the  Ohio  river,  while  meditating 
in  the  pilot-house,  I  determined  to  leave  the  life  of  a  river 
rover  and  plunge  into  the  interior  of  Kentucky,  for  the  pur- 
pose of  continuing  my  education.  I  told  the  pilot  my  inten- 
tion, and  asked  him  to  let  me  off  and  allow  me  to  draw  the 
few  dollars  due.  Arriving  at  Maysville,  I  stepped  ashore  with 
twenty  dollars  in  my  pocket,  and  proceeded  out  on  the  Flem- 
ingsburg  pike,  in  the  spring  of  1856,  to  seek  my  fortune  afoot 
and  alone  in  the  midst  of  strangers.  I  had  an  uncle  living  in 
Montgomery  county,  near  Mt.  Sterling,  and  it  was  my  inten- 
tion to  work  my  way  in  that  direction. 


CHAPTER  III. 

SCHOOL  IN  MONTGOMERY  COUNTY. 

I  remained  awhile  in  Flemingsburg,  Tilton  and  Owingsville, 
working  in  stores  and  on  farms,  traveling  the  pike  occasionally 
from  Maysville  to  Mount  Sterling  with  Dick  Wood  and  his 
brother,  who  hauled  merchandise  in  the  old  ''prairie  schoon- 
ers ' '  that  rattled  away  behind  six-horse  teams.  The  wagons 
had  regular  stopping  places  for  the  night,  where  the  landlord 
of  the  wayside  inn  and  his  guests  made  merry  until  the  moon 
went  down.  Sometimes  a  band  of  serenading  darkies  would 
lend  their  sweet  voices  to  the  midnight  revel,  winding  up  with 
"juber,"  or  a  rattling  "hoe-down,"  to  punctuate  the  party. 
Early  in  the  morning,  Wood,  the  captain  of  the  creaking 
schooner,  and  myself  took  breakfast,  paid  the  bill  of  Boniface, 
and  drove  out  into  the  broad  pike  heading  for  the  hills  of 
Montgomery.  Seated  on  the  stout  saddle-horse,  I  imagined 
myself  once  more  at  the  steamboat  wheel.  The  long  check- 
rein  whacked  up  the  leader,  and  sent  the  whole  team  on  a 
brisk  trot  down  the  winding  grade  to  the  music  of  a  black- 
snake  whip,  its  sharp  notes  resounding  among  the  hills  and 
vales  of  the  "blue-grass  land."  Those  happy,  harmless  days 
are  gone  forever,  and  with  them  the  lumbering  old  wagons, 
stages  and  drivers,  who  were  very  important  in  their  time — 
the  mercantile  community  depending  on  the  promptness  and 
honesty  of  these  common  carriers.  The  white  canvas  tops 
of  the  wagons  and  the  swinging  form  of  the  high-topped  stages 
have  been  puffed  out  of  existence  by  the  snort  of  the  iron 
horse,  and  these  useful  vehicles  of  long  ago  have  gone  to  the 
grave  with  the  old  fogy  who  put  a  stone  in  his  meal-sack  to 
balance  his  grist  of  corn. 

25 


26  A  CHECKERED  LIFE. 

My  uncle  was  surprised  to  see  me  at  his  door  in  search  of 
friends  and  education.  Near  the  turbid  waters  of  Slate  and 
the  chalybeate  spring  on  Spencer  Creek  an  old  log  school- 
house  stood  on  a  hill-top  surrounded  by  forest  trees.  Opening 
vistas  showed  cleared  corn-fields,  where  bleached  bodies  of 
dead  trees  reared  their  toppling  heads  and  ghostly  arms.  The 
old  school-house  may  have  long  since  gone  to  decay,  and 
the  new  generation  that  climbs  the  hill  over  the  rugged  coun- 
try road  may  give  no  thought  to  the  wayside  hall  of  learning, 
or  call  up  memories  of  the  old  play -ground  ;  yet  in  the  inmost 
precincts  of  my  heart  I  still  retain  the  image  of  many  boys 
and  girls  who  shared  with  me  their  hopes,  homes  and  affection. 

"  Some  are  in  the  churchyard  laid, 
Some  sleep  beneath  the  sea." 

My  teacher  at  this  school  was ''Doc."  Orear,  a  sensible 
country  gentleman,  whose  parents  owned  a  neighboring  farm. 
I  see  the  old  mill  near  the  school  even  now,  tottering  on  the 
brink  of  the  creek  like  a  drunken  man  at  a  banquet.  The 
rumble  and  roar  of  the  rusty  wheels,  the  mill-race,  the  dash 
of  the  water  over  the  dam,  the  shriek  of  the  kingfisher,  hawk 
and  carrion  crow — all  come  back  to  me  now  like  the  tones 
of  vanished  music;  and  as  memory  lifts  the  curtain,  I  see  the 
players  and  actors  of  long  ago  troop  across  the  stage  of  life, 
tripping  away  to  the  realm  of  shadows. 

Have  you  ever  been  at  a  country  mill  waiting  your  turn  for 
the  grist  ?     It  is,  to  the  romantic  mind,  a  picture  of  fascinat- 
ing life.     There  may  be  like  yourself  a  score  waiting  their 
turn.     Some  are  pitching  quoits  in  the  "big  road,"  others 
racing  horses,  running  and  jumping  on  the  sand,  telling  yarns 
and  exchanging  farm  gossip,  while  in  a  quiet  nook  under  the 
crumbling  timbers  you  behold  a  party  of  mathematical  rustics 
playing  fox  and  geese,  checkers,  mumblety-peg  or  jack-stones. 
And  still  the  old  mill  grinds  away, 
And  surely  totters  to  decay; 
But  the  waters  gone  down  to  the  plain 
Will  never  come  back  to  grind  again ! 


A  CHECKERED  LlfiE.  27 

The  following  extract  from  a  letter  to  the  Mt.  Sterling  Dem- 
ocrat',  of  April  29th,  1881,  from  Mexico,  Mo.,  in  response  to 
some  reminiscences  of  mine,  will  show  that  "Doc."  Orear 
still  cherishes  the  memory  of  his  old  pupil  through  the  varnish 
of  twenty-six  years : 

"I  distinctly  remember  young  Joyce — a  bright,  precocious 
lad  with  black  hair  and  sparkling  eyes — with  what  alacrity  he 
came  forward  to  recitations ;  his  prompt  and  ready  answers ; 
and  another  lovely  trait,  beautiful  in  a  pupil  and  highly  appre- 
ciated by  the  teacher — his  perfect  politeness  of  feeling  and 
action  on  all  occasions  ;  and  then  his  readiness  at  declamation 
and  composition. 

"  I  take  pride  that  I  had  for  a  short  time  the  training  of  so 
bright  and  naturally  so  good  a  mind  ;  and,  what  is  strange,  the 
the  lady  I  afterwards  married  was  also  his  teacher  at  the  acad- 
emy in  the  Gatewood  district.  Dear  old  pupil !  May  your 
aspirations  and  hopes,  with  mine,  be  anchored  close  to  the 
throne  of  the  Great  Eternal  in  the  heavens,  where  in  time  we 
may  strike  hands  on  the  other  shore.  Hoping  to  hear  again 
from  that  ready  pen,  I  subscribe  myself  his  'teacher  of  the 
old  log  school  house.'  " 

Leaving  the  country  school,  I  attended  the  Highland  Acad- 
amy  at  Mt.  Sterling,  presided  over  by  a  benevolent  gentleman 
named  James  B.  Crane.  Ihad  my  school  trials  and  triumphs, 
and  looking  back  over  my  career  with  a  retrospective 
glance,  I  see  again  the  boys  and  girls.  Dave  Chenault,  Tom 
Hoffman,  Howard  Barnes,  Billy  Barnes,  Bob  Bean,  Bill 
Thompson,  Bill  Hanley,  Luther  Wilson,  Jim  Anderson, 
George  Everet,  Joe  Wilkerson,  Marion  Peters,  Tom  Metcalf, 
Jim  Carter,  Tom  Grubbs,  Wes.  Chenault,  Davis  Reed,  Tom 
Wilson,  Joe  Jordan,  John  Tucker,  Henry  Jones,  Jim  Gate- 
wood,  Colie  Apperson,  Jim  Spradling,  Joe  Cool,  Landon. 
Chiles  and  Jim  Lee,  if  alive,  may  call  to  mind  my  first  trial 
for  kissing  the  girls.  It  was  very  ludicrous  and  funny.  I  had 
only  been  in  the  seminary  three  days  when  the  girls  found  out 
I  could  sing  comic  and  love  songs.  At  noon  most  of  the 


28  A  CHECKERED  LIFE. 

scholars  went  home  to  dinner,  but  as  I  lived  a  few  miles  in 
the  country,  I  brought  lunch  to  school,  and  made  a  silent  meal 
amid  the  broken  benches  up  stairs  in  the  general  recitation 
room.  One  particular  day  a  number  of  girls  surrounded  my 
desk  and  insisted  that  I  should  sing.  Among  the  dear  crea- 
tures I  remember  Laura  Mitchell,  plump  and  intelligent;  Mary 
Wells,  willowy  and  keen;  Kizzie  Wright,  sedate  and  sterling; 
Luckett  Anderson,  sprightly  and  fascinating;  Hawes  Owen, 
modest  and  benevolent;  Laura  Lindsey,  vivacious  and  loving; 
Fannie  Ragland,  musical  and  handsome;  Nettie  Prewett, 
beautiful  and  aristocratic;  Nannie  Chenault,  slender  and  sym- 
pathetic; Emma  Gatewood,  stately  and  kind;  Mary  Chiles, 
sensible  and  honest;  Mat.  Hazelrigg,  bouncing  and  beaming; 
Dolly  and  Mary  Carter,  bubbling  over  with  fun  and  frolic; 
and  a  number  of  other  "blue  grass"  beauties,  whose  faces  and 
fascinating  smiles  still  linger  in  my  memory.  I  sang  until  I 
was  tired  for  the  knot  of  budding  beauties,  and  they  still  in- 
sisted, like  little  Oliver  Twist,  for  "more."  To  add  to  my 
anxiety  and  grief,  they  upset  my  ink-bottle  on  the  piece  of 
bread  I  had  partially  eaten,  and  caused  a  flush  of  passion  to 
rise  in  my  heart.  I  could  stand  the  raid  of  the  girls  no 
longer,  and  "went  for  them  then  and  there."  As  the  bevy 
dispersed  about  the  benches,  I  raced  after  them  with  impetu- 
ous strides,  kissing  each  one  that  fell  into  my  grasp,  causing  a 
general  retreat  among  the  fair  daughters  of  Montgomery,  and 
an  upheaval  of  indignation  for  my  so-called  audacity.  School 
was  soon  after  "taken  in,"  and  Mr.  Crane,  the  Principal, 
called  up  to  the  bar  of  justice  all  who  had  been  concerned 
in  the  row.  Tom  Metcalf  and  Dave  Chenault  were  the  main 
witnesses,  giving  their  evidence  in  an  unvarnished  manner, 
which  was  rather  favorable  to  me  in  the  causes  that  led  to  the 
raid  on  the  girls,  as  a  retaliation  for  their  persistency.  The 
girls  begged  off  with  tears  in  their  eyes  and  humiliation  in 
every  movement.  After  a  full  investigation,  Mr.  Crane  decid- 
ed that  the  girls  were  to  blame  in  forcing  me  to  sing,  and  in 
destroying  my  books  and  bread,  and  that  I  was  fhe  chief  sin- 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE.  2f) 

ner  who  had  the  audacious  boldness  to  kiss  any  girl  without 
the  consent  of  her  parents !  Therefore  all  must  be  punished. 
At  this  announcement,  the  girls  sobbed  violently  and  I  stood 
like  "patience  on  a  monument  smiling  at  grief."  Mr.  Crane 
produced  a  hickory  ruler,  smiled  upon  me  blandly  and  asked 
what  I  had  to  say.  I  simply  extended  my  hand,  and  with 
laconic  indignation  exclaimed:  "Pitch  in!"  With  a  stern 
face  he  complied  with  my  order,  and  at  every  stroke  of  the 
ruler  insisted  that  I  should  be  sorry  for  what  I  had  done.  But 
with  that  peverseness  that  characterized  my  conduct  in  later 
years  I  was  not  to  be  moved  against  my  sense  of  justice,  be- 
lieving that  I  did  right  in  dispersing  the  beautiful  girls.  I 
was  finally  sent  to  my  seat,  while  the  girls  were  left  to  their 
tears  and  prayers.  The  teacher  did  not  have  the  heart  to 
enforce  his  verdict,  but  as  he  had  promised  punishment  all 
around,  appealed  to  me  in  the  premises.  The  girls  looked 
towards  my  corner  with  anxious  longing.  As  my  punishment 
had  been  administered,  theirs  would  not  add  to  my  pleasure, 
and  I  therefore  said:  "Let  them  go,"  which  was  done  with 
great  satisfaction  to  the  parties  interested  in  my  funny  school 
experience. 

Perhaps  many  of  the  actors  in  the  foregoing  scenes  will  re- 
call them  with  pleasure;  and  although  long  years  cover  up  the 
plane  of  memory,  some  loving  heart  will  go  back  with  me  to 
the  old  play-ground  and  live  again  amid  the  haunts  that 
blessed  our  childhood. 

Ah,  the  friends  that  we  make  in  later  years  cannot  be  com- 
pared to  the  loved  ones  of  sunny  childhood,  when  the  heart 
was  light  and  pure,  unbiased  by  the  glitter  of  the  mighty  dol- 
lar !  Even  this  moment  I  am  walking  in  my  day-dreams  out 
Winchester  pike,  with  the  beautiful  niece  of  Newton  Congle- 
ton.  By-paths,  through  blue  grass  woods  intervene,  spring 
birds  sing  sweeter  than  ever,  scampering  squirrels  run  up  the 
great  arms  of  red  oaks  and  ash  trees,  casting  sly  glances, 
chirping  and  chattering  a  defiance,  seeming  to  say,  "Catch  me 
if  you  can."  Wild  flowers  bloom  in  every  nook,  trailing 


3° 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE. 


vines  clamber  up  the  trees,  the  morning  sunshine  bathes  the 
woods  in  golden  glory,  and  the  white  clouds  floating  on  the 
bosom  of  the  upper  blue  come  and  go  like  angel  messengers. 

I  finished  school  at  Mt.  Sterling  in  June,  1859.  In  pre- 
paring for  the  examination  and  exhibition  held  at  the  old 
court-house,  I  studied  so  hard,  night  and  day,  that  my  mental 
and  physical  condition  became  deranged.  The  following 
chapter  gives  the  strangest  and  most  eventful  period  of  my 
life — the  insane  milestone. 


O 


CHAPTER  IV. 

A  DESCRIPTION  OF  LUNATIC  FANCIES. 

EASTERN  KENTUCKY  LUNATIC  ASYLUM,  1 
Lexington,  Ky.,  June  I2th,  1881.      j 

COL.  JOHN  A.  JOYCE,  Washington,  D.  C.: 

DEAR  SIR: — The  records  of  this  Asylum  show  the  follow- 
ing, to-wit: 

No.  2423,  John  A.  Joyce,  Montgomery  County,  Ky.;  native 
of  Ireland;  18  years  of  age;  single;  occupation,  farmer; 
Catholic;  habits;  temperate  and  industrious;  original  disposi- 
tion and  intellect  good,  excellent ;  cause,  hereditary  form ; 
mania,  hallucination,  perpetual  motion.  Admitted  June  26. 
1860.  Discharged  September  ist,  1860.  Recovered. 
Respectfully, 

W.  A.  BULLOCK,  M.   D. 

Med.  Sup't  E.  Ky.  L.  A. 

It  is  a  rare  thing  for  a  recovered  lunatic  to  write  the  history 
of  his  own  derangement.  The  foregoing  letter,  received 
recently,  is  the  evidence  of  truth  and  identity.  Science  and 
skill  in  every  age  have  struggled  to  master  the  manipulated 
brain  of  the  maniac,  and  ascertain  the  cure  for  a  diseased 
mind.  The  body,  the  tangible  part  of  man,  can  be  easily 
nursed  back  from  a  dying  skeleton  form  to  robust  health,  but 
the  intangible,  wild,  spectral  mind  has  no  chains  to  bind  its 
rushing  pinions,  and  no  cure  to  quiet  the  crumbling  fabric  of 
imagination. 

The  mind  or  soul  of  man  is  unfathomable,  and  no  plummet 
has  ever  yet  been  found  to  touch  the  bottom  of  this  universal 
ocean.  A  very  large  majority  of  lunatics  emerge*  from  hered- 
itary mouldings.  The  father  or  mother  are  the  source  of  luna- 
tic beings,  and  actual  begetting  is  the  fountain-head  of  the 

31 


32 


A  CHECKERED  LIf'E. 


long  train  of  fearful  troubles  that  follow  in  the  wake  of  the 
insane  mind.  The  action  of  a  moment  ushers  millions  of 
human  beings  into  "  this  breathing  world  scarce  half  made 
up,  and  that  so  rude  and  unfashioned"  that  long  years  and 
the  lonely  grave  can  only  obliterate  the  terrible  torture  that 
reigns  forever  in  the  memory  of  the  maniac. 

When  I  look  over  vanished  years  and  count  the  milestones 
along  my  rugged  road  of  life,  I  approach  with  fear  the  fiery 
pillar  that  lit  up  the  glowing  realms  of  my  lost  mind.  I 
should  not  speak  now  upon  this  phase  of  my  checkered  career 
were  it  not  that  a  sense  of  duty  impels  me  to  give  my  experi- 
ence to  the  friends  and  relatives  of  lunatics,  as  well  as  to  im- 
press attendants  and  doctors  having  charge  of  the  insane  with 
a  proper  sense  of  their  responsibility. 

I  say  it  without  fear  of  medical  contradiction,  that  a  full- 
fledged  lunatic  was  never  cured  by  brutal  force  or  unreasonable 
restraint.  All  human  beings  have  minds  as  varied  as  their 
features,  and  meat  for  one  is  poison  for  another. 

In  the  days  of  Galileo,  Tasso  and  the  Prisoner  of  Chillon, 
it  was  considered  the  correct  thing  to  put  the  insane  in  a  deep 
dungeon,  chained  to  a  stone  pillar,  shut  out  from  the  sunlight, 
with  no  music  to  cheer  the  weary  hours  of  day  or  lonely  mo- 
ments of  night  save  the  clanking  of  their  chains  or  the  wild 
echoes  of  their  melancholy  moans. 

"His  bread  was  such  as  captives'  tears 
Have  moistened  many  a  thousand  years, 
Since  man  first  pent  his  fellow  men 
Like  brutes  within  an  iron  den." 

Things  have  changed  but  little  since  those  cruel  ancient 
days.  In  Europe,  Asia,  Africa  and  America,  at  this  very 
hour,  thousands  of  poor  human  creatures,  lost  to  friends  and 
memory,  are  languishing  in  madhouses  and  almshouses,  tor- 
tured by  ignorant  attendants,  encased  in  straight-jackets,  pent 
up  in  padded  rooms,  doused  in  shivering  baths  and  shower- 
chairs,  strapped  to  iron  cots,  or  tortured  by  the  lash  of  some 
petty  tyrant  who  imagines  that  brutal  blows  can  subdue  the 


A  CHECKERED -LIFE.  ^ 

mind.  Ah,  friends,  how  very  little  doctors  and  their  assist- 
ants know  about  the  cure  for  insanity  !  All  the  medical  plat- 
itudes ever  written  by  so-called  scientific  gentlemen  have  not 
touched  the  outer  edge  of  the  insane  land.  It  is  a  terra  incog- 
nita to  all  save  those  who  inhabit  the  realm. 

The  leaves  that  tremble  in  the  forest,  the  sands  that  glisten 
on  the  sea-shore,  and  the  stars  that  twinkle  in  the  blue  vault 
of  heaven,  multiplied  by  incalculable  millions,  cannot  com- 
pare with  the  various  ideas  that  bubble  up  in  the  mind  of  the 
maniac.  Every  human  being  with  a  grain  of  common  sense 
is  liable  to  become  crazy.  A  fool  or  an  idiot  cannot  pene- 
trate into  the  sacred  land  of  the  insane.  The  ancients  wor- 
shiped madmen,  and  they  were  held  sacred  by  the  enlightened 
people  of  antiquity.  They  said,  let  no  one  dare  abuse  what 
God  has  touched  with  his  magic  wand.  The  brightest  minds 
that  have  been  ushered  into  life  were  touched  by  the  spell 
of  insanity;  and  I  might  say  that  every  great  undertaking  in 
this  world  has  been  invented,  discovered  or  conjured  up  by 
the  brain  of  a  person  who  had  the  insanity  of  deep,  unusual 
thought,  and  the  unfaltering  mania  of  desperate  perseverance. 

From  the  foregoing  general  principles,  I  shall  proceed  di- 
rectly to  the  specific  facts,  as  intensely  and  distinctly  remem- 
bered in  my  own  case. 

In  the  spring  of  1860  a  vivid  flash  of  imagination  shot 
across  my  brain  like  zigzag  lightning  from  a  blue  sky.  I  told 
my  father  and  uncle,  who  were  then  living  near  Mt.  Sterling, 
that  I  wished  to  take  a  course  in  bookkeeping  at  Duff's  com- 
mercial college  in  Pittsburg,  and  to  this  end  induced  them  to 
give  me  a  hundred  dollars  to  start  for  the  "smoky  city."  I 
went  to  Cincinnati,  and  thence  by  boat  to  Pittsburg.  On  my 
way  up  the  river  I  had  the  wildest  and  strangest  feelings  about 
life  and  the  small,  creeping  human  things  that  crawled  over 
the  earth.  The  idea  of  running  the  world  and  the  wheels  of 
traffic  by  perpetual  motion  sprang  into  my  mind.  I  felt  sure 
that  the  real  problem  of  life  was  solved — a  force  superior  to 
the  attraction  of  gravitation  !  Newton  and  his  falling  apple 


34  A  CHECKERED  LIFE. 

were  but  atoms  in  the  great  discovery  of  running  things  by 
perpetually  acting  balances  suspended  like  a  see-saw  plank  on 
a  middle  pivot  throwing  out  living  oil  into  the  fibers  of  the 
great  machine,  which  was  to  run  on  the  principle  of  the  cir- 
culation of  the  blood — one  continuous  round  of  circulating 
force  and  fluid,  beginning  at  the  end  and  ending  at  the  begin- 
ning ! 

Even  now  I  believe  the  day  is  near  at  hand  when  the  indus- 
trial machinery  of  the  world  will  be  run  perpetually  by  elec- 
tricity extracted  from  the  air  we  breathe,  and  that  we  shall 
navigate  the  upper  atmosphere  with  greater  velocity  and  cer- 
tainty than  has  ever  been  attained  by  man  on  land  or  sea. 
The  flight  of  the  condor,  eagle  or  wild  pigeon  cannot  equal 
the  height  and  swiftness  that  man,  in  his  wisdom,  will  yet 
achieve. 

It  was  midnight  when  I  arrived  at  Pittsburg.  Instead  of 
remaining  on  the  boat,  I  wandered  out  upon  the  levee,  amid 
piles  of  freight,  coal  and  iron,  that  covered  the  banks  of  the 
river.  About  daylight  I  found  myself  in  a  modest  hotel  not 
far  from  Duff's  college.  After  breakfast,  with  no  sleep  the 
previous  night,  I  saw  Mr.  Duff  at  his  school.  If  I  remember 
rightly,  he  used  an  ear-trumpet  to  assist  his  defective  hearing. 
I  entered  my  name  on  the  school-roll,  purchased  some  pre- 
liminary books,  and  spent  a  few  hours  in  writing  up  a  common 
day  journal.  That  night,  on  my  return  to  the  hotel,  I  felt 
my  mission  to  be  the  lecture-field  or  theatrical  boards  ;  and  as 
a  large  number  of  mediocre  people  succeeded  in  these  voca- 
tions, there  was  no  reason  why  a  man  of  my  imagined  great- 
ness should  not  at  once  "  hire  a  hall,"  "  surprise  the  natives," 
and  scoop  in  a  fortune  in  a  night. 

The  very  next  day  I  went  to  a  printing  office,  had  some 
bills  struck  off  advertising  an  intellectual  variety  show  at  La- 
fayette Hall.  I  even  went  to  the  trouble  to  have  a  tin  box 
made,  wherein  the  doorkeeper  might  put  the  cash  and  tickets 
received  by  him  in  the  rush  of  the  natives  to  hear  the  most 
wonderful  prodigy  of  the  age  !  That  night  I  appeared  on  the 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE.  35 

stage  at  Lafayette  Hall,  and  with  song,  dance,  poetry,  oratory, 
and  flights  of  lunatic  fancy  surprised  the  few  stragglers  who 
paid  their  money  to  see  a  living  lunatic  on  the  mimic  stage 
of  life. 

Poor  King  Lear,  with  the  dead  Cordelia  in  his  arms,  crying 
for  the  vault  of  heaven  to  crack,  was  not  more  mad  than  I, 
instructing  and  amusing  an  audience  in  a  public  hall  of  a  great 
city.  The  curtain  was  finally  rung  down,  the  lights  turned 
out,  and  the  bill-poster  met  me  at  the  door  to  receive  com- 
pensation for  services  rendered.  I,  like  all  great  men,  referred 
the  plebian  to  my  agent,  the  fellow  who  kept  the  tin  box  and 
its  contents.  To  this  day  I  have  never  learned  the  fate  of  the 
bill  poster  or  the  agent.  There  may  be  some  citizens  in  the 
Pittsburg  theatrical  world  who  can  call  to  mind  the  foregoing 
facts,  and  wonder  and  laugh  at  how  they  were  taken  in  by  a 
lunatic ;  yet  I  have  no  doubt  that  often  since  they  have  been 
the  victims  of  men  not  half  as  honest  and  sincere  as  I  was  at 
that  time. 

I  next  turned  up  in  Wheeling,  wandering  about  the  streets, 
and  through  the  homes  of  former  friends.  From  Wheeling  I 
went  to  Moundsville,  thence  to  Marietta,  Ohio.  While  in 
Marietta  I  was  taken  up  by  some  humane  person,  and  placed 
in  the  county  lunatic  asylum.  They  put  me  in  a  small  room 
with  bars  across  the  windows  and  strong  bolts  bracing  the 
door.  For  the  first  time  I  was  depvived  of  liberty;  and  my 
royal  spirit  realized  the  shock,  and  outraged  nature  turned 
with  a  bound  and  smashed  everything  intervening  between  it 
and  freedom.  Before  being  locked  up,  I  was  kind  and  harm- 
less ;  but  the  loss  of  liberty  worked  my  mind  into  a  perfect 
frenzy,  and  aroused  the  very  devil  in  my  tortured  brain.  I 
would  have  smashed  or  killed  anything  coming  between  me 
and  freedon,  and  well  it  was  for  the  keeper  that  I  was  not  al- 
lowed access  to  those  whom  I  imagined  were  the  authors  of 
my  incarceration.  In  fact,  I  was  pent  up  in  a  small,  hot  room, 
like  a  wild  beast,  and  outraged  nature  revolted  at  the  cruel 
treatment. 


3 6  A  CHECKERED  LIFE. 

In  some  way,  my  father  found  me.  His  good  old  face  and 
soothing  voice  broke  in  upon  my  imprisoned  spirit  like  a  flash 
of  sunshine.  A  calm  came  over  my  mind,  and  the  murky 
clouds  of  despair  vanished.  In  a  short  time  I  was  dressed,  out 
in  the  open  fields,  and  on  the  road  to  Kentucky.  I  confiden- 
tially told  my  father,  as  we  moved  along,  that  I  had  discovered 
perpetual  motion;  and,  what  was  more,  that  I  had  found  the 
philosopher's  stone,  or  the  secret  of  turning  pebbles  of  earth 
into  gold  !  As  an  evidence  of  my  wild  fancy,  I  picked  up  a 
dark  pebble,  scratched  it  with  a  pin,  when — lo  !  and  behold — 
it  turned  to  yellow  gold  ! 

Even  at  this  day  I  can  see  the  smile  on  the  lip  and  the  tear 
in  the  eye  of  my  dear  old  father,  who  seemingly  assented  to 
my  hallucination,  and  even  flattered  my  vanity.  It  took  no 
harsh  treatments-no  bolts,  bars  or  straight-jackets — to  hold 
my  body.  I  followed  the  directions  of  my  father  like  a  sport- 
ive lamb,  and  every  terror  was  banished  from  my  heart  by  his 
kind  words  and  consoling  actions.  Liberty,  even  in  my  insane 
mind,  was  fostered  by  love,  and  although  the  balance-wheel 
of  understanding  flew  around  without  a  governor,  the  soul  yet 
lingered  in  its  sphere,  but  could  not  control  the  insane  im- 
pulses of  the  infinitessimal  fibers  of  the  volcanic  brain. 

In  due  time,  we  arrived  at  my  home  near  Mt.  Sterling.  For 
a  few  days,  I  seemed  to  be  recovering  from  the  mania  that 
pursued  me,  and  when  thrown  among  schoolmates  and  friends, 
gleams  of  sanity  would  come  and  go  like  wavelets  on  a  sum- 
mer sea.  I  wandered  about  town  for  some  time ;  visited  the 
old  seminary — the  former  theatre  of  my  intellectual  triumphs. 
— and  mingled  with  my  old  schoolmates.  It  soon  became 
plain  to  all  my  friends  that  the  lunatic  asylum  was  the  proper 
place  for  one  of  my  deranged  mind.  With  deep  sorrow  and 
mournful  regrets,  a  jury  was  impanneled,  an  investigation  took 
place,  and  I  was  in  due  form  pronounced  non  compos  mentis. 
and  ordered  sent  to  the  Eastern  Lunatic  Asylum  at  Lexington . 
The  next  morning  I  mounted  the  stage-box  with  a  keeper  and 
friend,  and  rode  over  the  Winchester  pike,  singing  on  the  way 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE.  37 

with  a  heart  as  light  as  the  mist  on  the  mountains.  I  imagined 
that  I  had  been  elected  to  the  legislature  of  Kentucky,  and 
was  on  my  way  to  Frankfort  to  make  laws  for  a  lot  of  crazy 
people  in  Montgomery  county.  When  we  arrived  in  Lexing- 
ton, I  was  taken  out  to  see  what  was  pictured  to  me  as  the 
capitol  of  Kentucky,  where  I  would,  of  course,  shine  as  an 
orator  and  statesman  of  extraordinary  ability. 

The  long  red  brick  building,  four  stories  high,  with  regular 
rows  of  windows,  broke  full  upon  my  view  as  I  entered  the 
enclosure  of  the  asylum.  I  immediately  mounted  the  steps 
leading  into  the  front  hall,  and  strode  the  long  corridors  like 
a  king  familiar  with  his  ancestral  palace.  The  doctor  and  his 
attendants  seemed  very  obsequious,  and  took  me  through  vari- 
ous doors,  halls  and  apartments,  until  at  last  I  was  snugly 
placed  in  one  of  the  upper  wards,  where  an  iron  cot,  bare 
walls  and  barred  windows  convinced  me  in  a  momentary  re- 
turn to  sanity  that  I  was  anything  but  a  king.  All  the  terrors 
of  my  Ohio  den  came  back  like  a  flash.  I  hammered  at  the 
door,  yelled  through  the  window  at  quiet  lunatics  on  the  lawn, 
upset  my  iron  cot,  tore  the  sheets  into  strips  and  made  them 
into  a  rope,  that  I  might  escape  imprisonment  and  descend  to 
the  grass,  flowers  and  sunshine  that  covered  the  fields  and  gar- 
dens below. 

My  mind  was  so  wild,  and  muscles  so  strong  for  a  boy  of 
eighteen,  that  it  took  half  a  dozen  attendants  to  overpower 
and  strap  me  down  to  an  iron  cot.  In  fact,  I  smashed  things 
fearfully  and  tore  off  every  garment  from  my  body,  in  an  im- 
agined desperate  fight  for  liberty,  the  sweetest  and  dearest  thing 
on  earth  to  the  human  heart,  and  especially  to  the  insane  mind. 
Of  course,  a  lot  of  rough  and  brutal  attendants  overpowered 
my  body,  but  they  did  not  convince  my  mind  nor  quiet  my 
voice  against  their  terrible  tyranny.  No  !  the  soul  within  was 
more  defiant  than  ever,  and  no  physical  punishment  could 
subdue  the  God-given  mind  or  curb  its  flights. 

I  was  finally  taken  out  of  the  regular  wards  and  put  in  a 
place  called  Botany  Bay,  at  the  end  of  the  lawn,  where  the 


38  A  CHECKERED  LIFE. 

maddest  maniacs  were  consigned  to  straight-jackets,  dungeons, 
chains  and  the  tortures  of  a  living  hell !  Wild,  horrible,  un- 
earthly shrieks  sounded  in  my  ears  night  and  day,  and  all  the 
imps  of  pandemonium  martialed  in  a  fairy  battalion  could  not 
have  made  more  clangor,  to  my  mind.  All  was  "like  sweet 
bells  jangled  out  of  tune."  I  was  turned  into  an  open  vault- 
room  to  parade  with  the  rest  of  the  animals,  but  soon  the  doc- 
tors and  attendants  learned  that  I  was  a  royal  Bengal  tiger, 
and  would  not  herd  with  common  beasts.  I  immediately  put 
to  flight  the  biggest  and  wildest  of  the  drove,  and  made  them 
cower  before  my  imagined  superiority.  A  big,  burly  attend- 
ant slipped  up  behind  me,  felled  me  to  the  floor,  and  dragged 
me  to  a  dark  room,  where  I  was  chained  to  the  wall,  strapped 
to  a  bare  iron  cot,  punished  and  rebuked  for  a  poor  distorted 
mind  that  God  in  His  wisdom  endowed  me  with. 

I,  myself,  was  not  myself;  but  what  was  left  of  my  inde- 
pendent self  revolted  at  the  ignorant  and  cruel  treatment  of 
men  who  knew  not  that  soul  and  liberty  cannot  be  mastered, 
curbed  or  confined.  You  may  stripe  and  torture  this  frail 
tenement  of  clay,  but  no  cruel  ingenuity  of  man  has  yet  de- 
vised the  means  to  harness  the  immortal  mind. 

The  blow  of  the  attendant  rankled  more  in  my  heart  than 
on  my  body.  I  determined  to  be  even  with  the  ignorant 
brute,  and  to  this  end  cunningly  prevailed  on  him  to  alloAv  me 
more  freedom  in  the  little  cellar-room,  and  also  implored  the 
doctors,  when  they  visited  me,  to  grant  more  liberty.  Dr. 
Chipley,  the  superintendent  of  the  asylum,  was  an  intelligent, 
though  rough-looking,  gray -haired  man.  I  imagined  that  he 
was  an  uncle  of  the  devil,  and  that  the  patients  were  all  his 
children.  The  Doctor,  although  curt,  was  innately  kind;  and 
I  am  convinced  now  that  many  rude  acts  were  done  by  the 
attendants  that  did  not  come  to  his  knowledge,  else  the  man 
who  struck  me  would  have  been  dismissed  at  once. 

Dr.  Dudley  was  the  assistant — a  man  whose  gentle  words 
and  graceful  action  stole  upon  my  affections  like  sunshine  amid 
opening  flowers.  I  put  him  down  as  my  friend,  and  would 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE.  ^ 

take  medicine  from  his  hands  when  the  proffered  cup  from 
attendants  was  considered  rank  poison.  For  weeks  I  was  con- 
fined in  a  small  basement  room,  with  an  upper  grated  window 
to  admit  light  and  air.  My  door  was  bolted,  and  food  was 
poked  through  an  aperture,  as  wild  beasts  are  fed  at  a  circus. 

All  was  lonely  and  sad  until  I  made  friends  of  two  little 
mice  and  a  family  of  gray  spiders  that  sought  my  cell  for 
safety.  Part  of  my  daily  food  was  set  apart  for  the  mice.  At 
first  they  were  very  shy  at  my  impulsive  movements  and 
shrieking  voice,  and  would  dart  into  their  hole  in  the  wall 
like  a  flash.  But,  finally,  kindness  begot  confidence,  confi- 
dence banished  fear,  and  in  a  short  time  they  ate  from  my 
hand,  played  on  the  cot,  or  danced  around  the  room  to  a  low 
musical  trill  that  I  whistled  for  their  amusement.  The  big 
dark  spiders  would  come  out  of  their  thick  web  and  eat  the 
flies  I  caught  for  their  meal.  Sometimes  they  would  fight  for 
their  food;  but  like  a  metropolitan  policeman,  I  came  to  the 
rescue  when  both  were  exhausted,  and  easily  captured  the 
combatants  and  separated  them  with  a  straw.  Like  a  well- 
regulated  housekeeper,  the  wife  would  soon  go  to  work  weav- 
ing a  fine,  brown  garb  around  the  innumerable  eggs  she  laid, 
while  the  "old  man"  would  spin  long  yarns  up  and  down 
the  wall,  scampering  over  his  growing  web  with  the  mathe- 
matical precision  of  a  scientific  surveyor.  He  was  perfect  in 
all  his  gossamer  lines ;  and  the  octagonal  shapes  that  seeming- 
ly grew  out  of  his  mouth  and  feet  filled  me  with  a  nameless 
surprise.  When  the  mice  or  the  spiders  heard  footsteps  at 
my  door,  they  would  immediately  stop  play  or  work  and  run 
into  their  holes,  seeming  to  know  that  sane  man  was  on  his 
round  of  ignorance  to  minister  to  the  insane.  But  what  cared 
1  for  the  cruelty  of  man  ? 

"With  spiders  I  had  friendship  made, 

And  watched  them  in  their  sullen  trade; 

Had  seen  the  mice  by  moonlight  play. 

And  why  should  I  feel  less  than  they  ? 

We  were  all  inmates  of  one  place, 

And  I  the  monarch  of  each  race.  " 


40  A  CHECKERED  LIFE. 

I  gradually  gained  the  liberty  of  locomotion  in  my  small 
room,  and  the  attendant  that  knocked  me  down,  instead,  of 
poking  my  food  through  the  hole  in  the  door,  would  open  it 
wide,  and  pass  in  the  victuals  with  a  look  of  mingled  shame  and 
fear.  I  was  nursing  my  wrath  to  keep  it  warm,  and  cunning- 
ly smiled  upon  the  brute,  who  no  doubt  imagined  that  I  had 
forgotten  his  cruel  treatment.  There  was  nothing  in  the  room 
that  I  could  strike  him  with,  but  with  the  quick  device  of  a 
lunatic  I  pulled  off  one  of  my  iron  heel-tap  boots,  and  as  he 
one  day  approached  the  door  without  caution,  I  swung  my 
boot  by  the  leg  and  planted  the  iron  heel  on  his  head.  He 
fell  like  a  struck  steer,  and  although  he  was  a  powerful  man, 
lay  like  one  dead  until  companion  attendants  carried  him 
away.  Of  course  the  doctors  and  attendants  bound  me  up  as 
usual,  and  upbraided  me  for  nearly  killing  my  keeper.  I  was 
perfectly  happy,  however,  in  thinking  that  the  punishment  he 
received  at  my  hands  was  only  a  just  recompense  for  the  secret 
knocks  and  blows  inflicted  upon  my  fellow  lunatics. 

Days  and  weeks  wore  away,  and  still  my  mind  rambled  in 
the  briers  and  flowers  of  imagination,  The  morning  sun  rose 
like  a  ball  of  fire,  and  I  followed  his  track  across  the  heavens 
until  the  evening  shadows  settled  down  upon  the  earth,  and 
night  flung  out  her  jeweled  curtains  to  flutter  in  the  winds 
and  brighten  in  the  silver  light  of  the  moon.  How  I  watched 
that  full,  round,  harvest  moon,  as  it  rose  in  the  month  of  July, 
1860.  Luna,  my  beautiful  midnight  companion,  sent  her  soft 
rays  through  my  barred  window,  and  its  glorious  beams  played 
hide  and  seek  upon  the  floor,  or  danced  to  the  music  of  the 
zephyrs  as  they  tripped  through  the  leaves  and  branches  of  a 
fine  old  tree  that  shaded  my  lonely  cell.  I  would  talk  by  the 
hour  to  imagined  spirits,  and  in  the  rapture  of-  my  soul  spin 
poetry  faster  than  my  spiders  spun  their  web.  I  dashed  into 
flights  of  eloquence  that  would  have  put  to  blush  the  ravings 
of  Demosthenes,  Mirabeau  or  Patrick  Henry. 

Strange  to  say,  while  I  praised  in  poetry  and  lunatic  elo- 
quence the  greatness  of  "  Harry  of  the  West,"  his  son  Theo- 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE.  4I 

dore  was  a  chattering  lunatic  by  my  side,  and  cheered  the 
flights  of  fancy  that  bubbled  up  in  my  troubledbrain.  Theodore 
Clay  had  been  an  inmate  of  the  asylum  for  thirty  years,  and 
was  considered  in  his  youth  the  brightest  child  of  the  old 
statesman.  It  was  said  that  love  and  disappointment  provoked 
his  lunacy.  A  beautiful  Lexington  girl  pledged  him  her  hand 
and  heart,  but  when  the  nuptial  night  came  round,  the  groom 
appeared  in  all  the  glow  of  matrimonial  expectations,  while 
the  fair  bride  had  eloped  with  a  hated  rival.  This  blow  cut 
the  highly  wrought  strings  of  intellect,  and  left  but  a  poor, 
broken  instrument  to  tune  out  his  mournful  days  in  a  lunatic 
asylum. 

It  would  take  a  volume  to  describe  the  different  kinds  of 
lunatics  and  the  various  forms  that  the  mind  takes  on  in  its 
ravings.  There  is  the  chattering  type,  as  he  walks  the  wards 
and  taps  the  bars  like  a  caged  beast ;  there  is  the  moody,  low- 
browed man,  sitting  alone,  counting  over  and  over  his  finger- 
tips or  watching  the  flies  and  spiders  as  they  buzz  and  weave 
in  the  sunshine.  There  comes  the  General,  as  he  strides  the 
halls,  commanding  large  armies  and  fighting  great  battles  at 
Pharsalia  and  Waterloo,  who  imagines  himself  Caesar  or 
Napoleon.  There  is  the  King  in  all  his  royal  glory,  carrying 
a  broom  for  a  sceptre  and  a  torn  sheet  for  a  purple  robe.  In 
the  next  ward  can  be  seen  his  royal  consort,  imitating  the 
strut  of  Queen  Victoria,  straws  and  chicken-feathers  in  her 
hair  for  a  royal  crown,  and  a  simpering  smile  for  the  poor  sub- 
jects who  gaze  upon  her  pretended  rank.  Now  comes  the 
confidential,  wise  inventor,  who  will  tell  you  of  the  great 
things  he  has  done,  of  the  millions  he  controls,  and  the  in- 
numerable ships  that  plough  the  ocean  for  his  advantage  and 
profit.  There  is  the  self-styled  Jesus  Christ,  who  preaches 
forgiveness  and  salvation,  ending  with  a  blessing  and  general 
absolution  from  sin,  and  asking  in  return  only  a  bit  of  tobacco  ! 
In  fact,  the  very  earth  blossoms  at  his  will,  and  the  sun,  moon 
and  stars  give  light  at  his  command.  It  is  only  a  generous 
chanty  that  keeps  him  from  shutting  up  this  universal  world 


42  A  CHECKERED  LIFE. 

and  retiring  into  chaos.  There  is  the  beautiful,  delicate  girl, 
like  a  withered  lily,  humming  a  low  love-song  to  her  darling, 
who  is  personated  by  the  pillow  in  her  arms,  but  who  may 
never  again  give  back  the  warm  kisses  that  come  and  go  like 
celestial  messengers.  See  another  fair  Ophelia,  posturing  be- 
fore a  looking-glass  with  comb  in  hand,  and  tangled  hair,  sigh- 
ing or  weeping  for  a  lover  or  father  snatched  from  her  warm 
embrace.  She  speaks:  "They  say  the  owl  was  a  baker's 
daughter — Lord,  we  know  what  we  are,  but  know  not  what  we 
may  be. ' '  Look  at  the  despair  of  the  weeping  mother  as  she 
bends  over  the  imaginary  body  of  her  babe,  sleeping  in  the 
shape  of  a  sweet  little  doll  on  the  broken  rocking-chair  by  her 
side,  impelled  backward  and  forward  with  the  wail  of  a  lost 
spirit.  Gaze  on  the  sailor  from  the  salt  sea,  swinging  to  the 
right  and  left,  heaving  the  anchor  or  hauling  away  hand  over 
hand  the  never-ending  round  of  imaginary  ropes.  He  strides 
the  ship  like  a  royal  Viking,  and  looks  aloft  at  the  whirr  of 
the  tackle,  sails  and  ropes,  with  all  the  pride  of  a  jolly  Jack 
Tar  out  on  the  ocean  blue.  No  blackened  bars  or  brutal  at- 
tendants hedge  in  his  soul  or  clip  the  power  of  his  insane 
pinions.  Like  a  sea  gull,  or  one  of  Mother  Carey's  chickens, 
he  rocks  upon  the  crested  wave  of  freedom,  and  with  a  pierc- 
ing eye  scans  the  horizon  or  lingers  for  the  night  winds  to 
lull  him  to  repose  in  the  cradle  of  the  deep. 

The  occasional  dance  and  theatrical  performance  in  the 
hall  of  a  lunatic  asylum  are  events  of  rare  interest  to  the 
student  of  human  nature.  I  have  attended  these  amusements 
both  as  an  insane  and  sane  spectator,  and  must  say  that  in  the 
former  I  felt  more  joy  than  in  the  latter  situation.  I  once 
took  part  in  the  play  of  the  Lady  of  Lyons,  personating  the 
enthusiastic  Melnotte,  pouring  out  a  flood  of  wild  eloquence  at 
the  feet  of  a  fair  but  unfortunate  Pauline.  There,  indeed, 
was  "a  palace  lifting  to  eternal  summer — perfumed  lights 
stealing  through  the  midst  of  alabaster  lamps — music  from 
sweet  lutes,  and  murmurs  of  low  fountains  that  gush  forth  in 
the  midst  of  roses. ' '  All  the  warm  glow  of  lunatic  fancy  was 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE. 


43 


heaped  in  my  acting,  and  while  Booth,  Montague  and  Mc- 
Cullough  may  have  rendered  the  role  with  more  harmony  and 
felicity,  they  never  could  approach  my  earnestness,  or  touch 
the  lightning  flashes  of  love  that  shot  across  my  fevered  brain. 

For  a  month  after  my  arrival  at  the  asylum  I  did  not  sleep 
an  hour.  Exhausted  nature  would  now  and  then  doze  off 
into  a  few  moments  of  delicious  delirium,  and  again  the  devil 
of  insanity  would  call  up  his  myriad  of  royal  imps  and  hold 
the  usual  banquet  in  my  brain.  I  was  gradually  growing 
weaker,  and  the  doctors  saw  that  something  must  be  done  to 
force  sleep.  Doctor  Dudley  came  to  my  room  one  morning, 
talked  to  me  with  the  kindness  of  a  lover,  humored  my  hal- 
lucination, and  said  that  he  had  a  nice  cup  of  coffee  for  me  to 
drink.  From  the  hands  of  Dudley  everything  was  taken  with 
confidence  and  relished  with  avidity.  I  drank  the  so-called 
coffee  given  by  the  doctor,  and  for  the  space  of  seventy-two 
hours  I  slept  in  a  semi-conscious  state.  The  laudanum  did 
its  perfect  work ;  and  out  of  a  terrible,  awful  dream,  the  pis- 
ton-rod of  lunacy  flew  back  into  the  cylinder  of  reason,  be- 
ginning to  move  in  its  accustomed  groove.  My  hot  fever  had 
gone,  the  nerves  had  relaxed,  my  voice  assumed  its  natural 
tone,  and  tired  nature  lay  like  a  drooping  plant  in  the  mid-day 
sun. 

I  soon  began  to  complain  of  the  fearful  noise  made  by 
the  insane,  day  and  night,  and  craved  the  privilege  of  the 
grounds  and  a  place  to  sleep  far  away  from  the  howl  of  the 
maniacs.  Mr.  Littlefield,  the  genial  gardener  and  farm  super- 
intendent, took  a  particular  fancy  to  me,  gave  his  word  to  the 
doctor  that  I  would  be  quiet  outside  the  walls,  and  that  he 
would  have  me  help  in  the  garden  and  among  the  flowers.  I 
went  forth  from  a  close  room  to  the  walks,  flowers  and  trees 
in  the  beautiful  grounds,  and  in  a  small  brick  house,  occupied 
by  the  gardener,  I  slept  in  confidence  and  peace  until  the  first 
of  September,  1860,  when  I  was  pronounced  recovered  and 
discharged  from  the  asylum,  after  a  stay  of  two  months  and 
four  days ! 


44 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE. 


Twenty-three  years  have  passed  since  the  terrible  scenes  of 
my  insanity,  and  yet 

'  Remembrance  wakes,  with  all  her  busy  train, 
Swells  at  my  breast,  and  turns  the  past  to  pain. 
In  all  my  wanderings  round  this  world  of  care, 
In  all  my  griefs,  and  God  has  given  my  share," — 

I  still  have  hopes  that  life  has  not  been  in  vain,  and  that 
out  of  my  trouble  and  insane  experience  may  grow  the  sweet 
fruits  of  charity  and  love,  to  strengthen  and  cure  the  poor, 
oppressed  and  unfortunate  lunatics  who  chatter,  sing  and 
howl  to-day  in  mad-house  miseries. 

The  feelings  of  a  lunatic  are  almost  indescribable.  In  my 
own  case,  ideas  would  spring  up  in  my  brain  with  the  heat  and 
force  of  a  red-hot  shot,  sending  my  body  on  to  some  desper- 
ate action  entirely  beyond  my  power  to  restrain  or  subdue. 
There  seemed  to  be  some  whispering  devil  at  the  threshold 
of  my  mind,  urging  me  on  to  deeds  that  I  knew  were  wrong, 
but  for  my  life,  had  not  the  power  to  prevent.  I  knew  what  I 
was  doing  all  the  time,  and  felt  inwardly  before  the  act  a 
sense  of  moral  shame  at  the  thing  to  be  committed,  and  yet 
could  not  resist  the  impulse  and  seductive  advice  of  the 
unknown  power  that  rushed  me  on  to  spurts  of  desperation. 

Reason  waged  war  against  insanity,  but  some  inexplicable, 
unknown  force  propelled  me  into  the  very  jaws  of  death,  at 
which  I  smiled  with  disgust  and  contempt.  My  supreme 
egotism  was  only  equaled  by  my  indifference  to  life ;  and 
while  having  at  times  the  outward  semblance  of  sanity,  the 
inward  fires  burned  like  a  furnace,  and  hurried  me  on  to  com- 
mit any  deed  that  chanced  to  pop  into  my  shattered  soul. 

The  rushing  swoop  of  the  eagle,  the  fearful  whiz  of  a 
north-west  blizzard,  or  the 'bolt  of  lightning,  are  not  more  fatal 
in  their  destination  than  the  spirit  pulsations  of  a  lunatic 
brain.  The  world  whirls  around  like  a  circular  saw,  the 
rivers  run  like  molten  silver,  the  sun  burns  a  hole  in  the 
•earth,  the  moon  is  filled  with  crumbling  mountains,  the  stars 
are  sparkling  diamonds  in  some  far-off  ocean,  and  mankind 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE.  45 

but  puppets  that  appear  for  a  moment  and  are  gone  forever  to 
the  realm  of  shadows  ! 

Abolish  forever  private  lunatic  asylums,  established  in  fear 
and  cupidity,  conducted  in  fraud  on  human  nature,  festering 
all  over  with  the  sores  of  financial  iniquity.  Wipe  out  the 
county  mad-houses,  only  kept  up  for  the  use  of  some  local 
doctors  and  petty  politicians,  who  get  their  bread  at  the  ex- 
pense of  shrieking  lunatics.  Let  the  state  and  the  nation 
take  full  charge  of  the  insane,  establishing  spacious  buildings 
and  extended  grounds,  where  the  most  perfect  freedom  can  be 
given  to  the  body,  and  where  even  the  mind  will  not  be  con- 
vinced that  it  is  cut  off  from  the  world  like  an  imprisoned 
felon.  Tear  out  the  black  bolts  that  bar  the  windows,  paint 
in  bright,  cheerful  colors,  let  clambering  vines,  blooming 
flowers,  running  waters  and  the  song  of  birds  entrance  the 
weary  mind,  and  let  the  soft  sunshine  into  the  black  holes  and 
damp  dungeons  that  man  has  made  for  man. 

Classification,  separation  and  kindness,  will  tend  to  cure 
the  insane  if  there  is  but  a  gleam  of  reason  to  light  up  the 
soul.  Force  will  compel  the  body,  but  cannot  touch  the  mind, 
and  the  medical  fraternity  might  as  well  try  to  dam  up  the 
Amazon  with  green  grass  as  to  attempt  the  cure  of  the  insane 
with  physical  terrors.  Humor  and  love,  cleanliness,  good 
food,  fresh  air,  and  above  all,  freedom  for  the  body,  will  make 
the  mind  of  the  madman  calm  and  serene,  and  bring  him 
back  to  reason,  home  and  friends. 


CHAPTER  V. 

KENTUCKY    IN    EARLY    WAR-DAYS. 

The  election  of  Abraham  Lincoln,  in  November,  1860,  and 
the  firing  upon  Fort  Sumpter,  in  April,  1861,  sent  a  thrill  of 
indignation  through  every  heart,  and  aroused  the  nation  from 
center  to  circumference.  In  Owingsville,  Bath  County,  a 
beautiful  town  on  a  hill-top,  where  I  was  employed  as  deputy 
clerk  of  the  circuit  court,  party  lines  began  to  be  drawn,  and 
home  guards  and  state  guards  began  to  drill.  Every  breeze 
from  South  Carolina  brought  to  our  ears  the  tramp  of  resound- 
ing battalions,  and  every  mail  was  loaded  down  with  part- 
ing words  and  patriotic  envelopes  expressing  the  sentiments 
of  the  writers.  I  remember  a  prominent  citizen  who  showed 
me  an  envelope  he  had  received  from  South  Carolina,  upon 
which  was  poorly  printed  a  picture  of  a  palmetto  flag,  and  I 
was  solicited  to  join  the  state  guard  company,  commanded  by 
one  of  my  friends.  Most  of  my  intimates  were  preparing  to 
embark  their  fortunes  with  the  Sunny  South.  All  my  social 
surroundings  conspired  to  drive  me  into  rebellion  against  the 
old  flag.  Pea  Ridge,  Bull  Run  and  Wilson's  Creek  followed 
in  rapid  succession,  driving  into  the  vortex  of  war  all  that  had 
the  courage  of  their  convictions  and  bravery  to  fight  and  die 
for  what  each  warrior  deemed  right. 

A  large  portion  of  the  people  of  Bath  county  were  at  first 
inclined  to  stand  by  the  armed  neutrality  proclamation  that 
Gov.  Magofrin  issued  for  their  consideration.  The  radical 
few,  however,  saw  in  the  action  of  the  state  government  but  a 
subterfuge  to  lull  the  people  to  repose  until  the  Confederate 

46 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE.  47 

leaders  could  put  their  clamps  on  Kentucky  and  chain  her  to 
the  chariot  wheels  of  Rebellion. 

In  the  summer  of  1861,  a  peculiar  and  fortunate  circum- 
stance took  place  in  the  town  of  Owingsville,  which  perhaps 
precipitated  the  citizens  to  action.  A  certain  photographer 
had  his  gallery  on  the  main  street.  Military  companies  were  in 
the  habit  of  parading  once  a  week,  and  a  rebel  flag  was  flung 
from  the  window  of  the  photographer,  attached  to  a  long  staff. 
A  group  of  Union  men  saw  the  act,  and  somebody  said  the 
flag  was  a  rebel  one.  The  eye  of  Smith  Hurt  flashed  like  a 
torch,  and  remembering  that  he  fought  under  the  stars  and 
stripes  in  the  Mexican  War,  he  bluntly  said :  "By  blood  !  let's 
tear  down  the  infernal  rag ;  "  and  making  a  rush  for  the  street, 
we  gathered  a  lot  of  stones  and  threw  them  at  the  obnoxious 
flag.  The  very  first  stone  thrown  by  Hurt,  with  his  left  hand, 
brought  down  the  emblem  of  treason,  and  another  heaved  by 
Clarke  Bascom  broke  the  staff,  the  whole  thing  coming  to  the 
ground,  where  it  was  torn  to  pieces  by  the  infuriated  knot  of 
daring  patriots. 

The  photographer  threatened  to  shoot  the  man  who  tore  the 
flag  down,  but  as  Hurt  did  not  cringe  or  apologize,  and  talked 
and  acted  defiantly  to  the  last,  there  was  no  blood  spilled. 
The  whole  town  was  in  an  uproar  at  the  occurrence,  and  the 
city  fathers  were  called  out  to  keep  the  peace  and  smooth  down 
the  ruffled  feathers  of  the  belligerents. 

During  the  summer  of  1861,  a  great  number  of  picnics  and 
barbecues  were  held  in  the  central  counties  of  Kentucky,  os- 
tensibly for  the  purpose  of  social  enjoyment,  but  in  fact  to 
recruit  soldiers  for  the  Southern  army  and  crush  out  the  grow- 
ing spirit  of  Unionism  in  the  state.  I  attended  some  of  these 
meetings,  and  listened  intently  to  the  fiery  oratory  of  Southern 
leaders. 

Gen.  John  C.  Breckenridge  had  come  home  from  Washing- 
ton to  cast  his  lot  with  the  Rebellion.  Col.  Roger  Hanson 
was  stumping  the  state,  urging  the  people  to  stand  up  for  the 
South,  and  General  John  S.  Williams — scenting  the  smoke 


48  A  CHECKERED  LIFE. 

of  battle — had  already  established  a  recruiting  camp  at  Pres- 
tonsburg,  in  Eastern  Kentucky,  with  Humphrey  Marshall  in 
command  of  the  district. 

Squads  and  companies  of  chivalric  Kentuckians  were  daily 
marching  through  and  near  Owingsville,  to  join  their  com- 
rades in  the  mountain  camps.  The  home  of  "Cy."  Boyd, 
near  the  mouth  of  the  Slate,  wras  a  rendezvous  for  Southern 
recruits,  they  making  his  house  a  resting-place  for  food,  drink 
and  shelter.  Ewing,  Connor,  Stoner,  Cluke,  Everet  and  a 
number  of  other  local  Southern  men  concluded  that  it  was 
getting  too  hot  to  remain  longer  inactive,  and  in  the  month 
of  September  they  cut  loose  from  the  moorings  of  the  Union. 
and  drifted  into  the  wild  breakers  of  Rebellion. 

Suspicion  lurked  in  every  eye,  and  death  held  high  carnival 
at  every  cross-road.  I  determined  for  myself  that,  come  what 
might,  I  would  never  desert  the  flag  under  which  I  had  been 
reared  and  protected — a  flag  which  sheltered  my  exiled  father 
from  the  heartless  and  cruel  laws  of  British  tyranny. 

I  did  not  believe  in  the  doctrine  of  secession,  and  could  not 
see  the  justice  of  Southern  states  going  outside  the  Union  to 
fight  for  their  rights  under  a  strange  flag.  While  I  believed 
the  states  to  be  supreme  in  their  powers  regarding  local  laws, 
I  knew  and  felt  that  this  must  be  a  Union  inseparable  from  the 
dictation  of  any  of  its  members;  and  as  the  whole  of  a  thing 
is  greater  than  any  of  its  parts,  I  was  sure  that  the  Nation  had 
the  right  and  power  to  force  its  rebellious  children  into  sub- 
mission. 

In  September  I  went  to  Olympian  Springs  with  Capt.  Da- 
vidson's company,  and  stood  guard  as  a  private  many  nights 
with  other  raw  recruits  from  the  surrounding  precincts,  who 
had  there  assembled  to  the  number  of  five  hundred,  as  the  nu- 
cleus of  the  24th  Regiment  Kentucky  Volunteers.  Major 
Hurt  took  charge  of  the  troops,  who  volunteered,  on  their 
own  hook,  to  fight  for  the  Union,  and  for  weeks  we  supported 
ourselves  as  best  we  could,  standing  as  a  wall  against  the  surg- 
ing waters  of  Secession.  An  isolated  battalion,  in  a  remote 


A   CHECKERED  LIFE.  49 

part  of  a  Southern  state,  standing  alone  for  the  old  flag  and 
the  Union  !  A  braver  or  better  part  was  not  played  at  Ther- 
mopylae. The  charge  of  the  Light  Brigade  and  the  heroic 
dash  of  Arnold  Winkleried  in  making  a  pass  for  the  liberty 
of  his  country  through  the  spears  of  the  hated  Austrians,  were 
not  inspired  by  more  noble  daring  and  fortitude  than  the  loyal 
hearts  of  the  24th  Kentucky,  who  first  held  the  pass  at  Olym- 
pian Springs. 

Northern  people  will  never  know  how  much  Southern  Union 
men  suffered  for  their  principles.  It  is  easy  enough  to  be  brave 
and  outspoken  when  the  cheering  crowd  are  unanimous  and 
there  is  no  danger  of  losing  your  life  in  the  expression  of  an 
opinion.  The  people  of  the  Northern  States  stood  by  the 
Union  from  self-interest.  The  loyal  people  of  Maryland,  Mis- 
souri and  Kentucky  owned  slaves  in  many  instances,  and  had 
fathers,  brothers  and  sons  who  went  out  to  fight  and  die  for 
Southern  rights.  Yet,  with  all  these  material  inducements  to 
make  them  falter,  they  stood  like  a  rock  in  mid-ocean  against 
the  roaring  breakers  of  rebellion.  The  government  owes  ever- 
lasting gratitude  for  their  fortitude  and  faith  ;  yet  I  fear,  in 
many  instances,  the  obligation  has  not  been  equal  to  the  duty 
performed  by  the  loyal  citizens  of  the  Border  States. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

HISTORY  OF  THE  TWENTY-FOURTH   KENTUCKY  REGIMENT. 

As  a  fitting  introduction  to  this  chapter,  I  present  a  letter 
from  General  Sherman,  expressing  gratification  at  the  proposed 
publication*  of  the  history  of  my  regiment : 

Washington,  1).  C.,  June  jOth,  1881. 
Col.  JOHN  A.  JOYCE, 

Georgetown,  D.  C. 

Dear  Colonel :  I  have  received  yours  of  June  3Oth,  and  the  newspaper, 
which  I  have  not  had  time  to  read.  Am  glad  you  are  engaged  on  the  his- 
tory of  your  regiment — the  24th  of  Kentucky — and  beg  you  will  not  spare 
the  Old  Man ;  only  don't  change  results,  so  as  to  compel  us  to  fight  the 
war  over  again.  Yours  truly, 

W.  T.    SHERMAN. 


The  following  letter  from  the  late  commanding  officer  of  the 
24th  Kentucky  gives  the  early  history  of  the  regiment : 

Owingsville,  Hath  Co.,  Ky,  \ 
June  1 5th,  1881.      ] 
DEAR  ADJUTANT: 

Yours  of  the  4th  of  May  duly  received,  and  I  have  deferred  answering 
because  of  the  hope  that  I  should  lie  able  to  furnish  you  an  account  of  the 
earliest  transactions  of  the  24th  Kentucky  Infantry.  But,  in  consequence 
of  extreme  nervous  prostration,  produced  by  a  recent  attack  of  fever,  I  am 
at  present  entirely  incompetent  to  the  task,  being  now  scarcely  able  to 
write.  I  have,  however,  every  confidence  that  should  you  undertake  to 
give  a  history  of  the  regiment's  operations  during  the  war,  you  will,  by  rea- 
son of  your  intimate  connection  and  acquaintance  with  it,  and  your  ability 
and  inclination,  be  able  to  do  it  ample  justice. 

Should  my  health  improve,  and  1  can  procure  the  data,  I  will  with  pleas- 
ure furnish  you  the  information  desired.     Nothing  is  dearer  to  meShan  the 

5° 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE.  5! 

deeds  of  the  gallant  24th ;  and  I  cherish  a  fond  recollection  of  the  brave 
and  gallant  officers  and  men  who  composed  it,  and  feel  it  a  great  honor  to 
have  been  its  chief  commanding  officer.  I  can  say  truly  that  I  was  always 
ably  seconded  by  my  gallant  Adjutant. 

Though  the  deeds  of  other  regiments  of  Kentucky  deserve  the  highest 
encomium,  yet  when  we  take  into  consideration  the  perilous  condition  of 
this  section  of  the  state  when  the  organization  of  the  regiment  was  com- 
menced, and  the  check  it  gave  the  secession  movement  in  this  isolated  re- 
gion, and  its  subsequent  deeds  during  the  War  of  the  Rebellion,  it  is  quite 
doubtful  whether  any  of  the  Kentucky  regiments  should  take  a  more  hon- 
orable place  in  the  history  of  that  conflict. 

I  remember  that  on  the  2gth  day  of  September,  1861,  three  of  the  com- 
panies— Davidson's,  (the  Owingsville  company),  North's  and  Barber's 
companies — concentrated  at  Olympian  Springs,  and  I  was  selected  to  take 
command  of  them,  and  did  so.  We  were  armed  partly  with  Lincoln  mus- 
kets, and  partly  with  others  obtained  from  the  Military  Board  of  Kentucky. 
For  more  than  a  week  we  had  only  such  rations  as  were  furnished  by  the 
loyal  citizens,  neither  the  State  or  Federal  governments  having  during  that 
time  taken  charge  of  the  troops.  Or,  as  I  can  more  readily  express  it,  we 
•were  acting  "on  our  own  hook."  These  three  companies  numbered  about 
two  hundred  men,  armed  as  before  stated.  At  the  end  of  this  time  about 
three  hundred  unarmed  recruits  had  joined  us,  making  five  hundred  men, 
and  it  was  this  nucleus  that  the  2d  Ohio  Infantry — the  advance  of  Gen. 
Wm.  Nelson's  command — joined  in  the  first  part  of  October. 

You  can,  therefore,  readily  see  that  but  for  the  action  of  those  three 
companies,  in  seizing  the  Olympian  Springs  as  a  strategetic  point,  the  rebel 
recruits  from  north-eastern  Kentucky,  instead  of  concentrating  at  Prestons- 
burg,  as  they  did,  would  in  all  probability  have  concentrated  at.  the  Olym- 
pian Springs,  near  the  center  of  the  state,  and  that  Gen.  Nelson's  small 
force  would  have  had  to  operate  against  the  rebel  troops  at  this  place  in- 
stead of  Prestonsburg,  Ivy  Mountain  and  Piketon ;  and  Col.  JAS.  A.  GAR- 
FIELD,  of  the  42d  Ohio  Infantry,  (now  our  President),  instead  of  defeating 
Gen.  Humphrey  Marshall  at  Middle  Creek,  on  Sunday,  as  the  Union  forces 
did,  would  have  had  to  seek  him  at  or  near  the  Olympian  Springs. 

I  have  always  believed  that  the  three  companies  seizing  Olympian  Springs 
on  their  own  responsibility  at  the  time  they  did,  (though  in  the  light  of  sub- 
sequent events  a  small  matter)  went  far  towards  saving  Kentucky  to  the 
Union. 

A  day  or  two  after  the  arrival  of  Colonel  Harris,  2d  Ohio  Regiment, 
L.  B.  Grigsby,  of  Winchester,  arrived  at  Olympian  Springs,  with  a  com- 
mission as  Colonel,  and  took  chief  command  of  the  companies  and  recruits 
before  mentioned,  and  three  other  companies,  viz :  Gary's,  Hedges'  and 


52 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE. 


Blue's,  that  were  organizing  from  the  recmits,  and  were  armed  by  the  state, 
making  six  companies  in  all;  and  on  the  8th  of  October,  1881,  they  were 
mustered  into  the  military  service  of  Kentucky  for  one  year.  My  rank  was 
that  of  Major.  The  state,  from  that  time  until  we  were  mustered  into  the 
military  service  of  the  United  States,  furnished  rations  and  other  supplies, 
with  the  exception  of  the  time  we  were  with  Gen.  Nelson  on  his  expedition 
to  Prestonsburg  and  Piketon. 

Soon  after  we  were  mustered  in,  Gen.  Nelson  arrived  at  the  Olympic.;) 
Springs,  and  also  Cols.  Sill,  Phyfe  and  Norton's  regiments,  of  Ohio;  Col. 
T.  A.  Marshall,  i6th  Ky.  Infantry;  a  battery  of  artillery — twelve-pound- 
ers; a  company  of  regular  cavalry;  a  fragment  of  Col.  Leonidas  Metcalf's 
yth  Ky.  Cavalry; — and  this  force  included  the  six  companies  of  the  24th 
Kentucky. 

Gen.  Nelson  assumed  command,  and  made  his  comparatively  bloodless 
campaign  on  the  Sandy,  driving  the  rebel  force,  under  command  of  Gen. 
John  S.  Williams,  (now  senator),  into  Virginia.  At  the  beginning  of  the 
expedition,  Gen.  Nelson  detailed  Davidson's  company  of  the  24th,  one 
company  each  from  Cols.  Marshall,  Sill,  Phyfe  and  Harris's  regiments, 
forming  what  he  termed  the  Light  Brigade,  which  he  placed  under  my 
charge,  and  which  I  commanded  until  the  campaign  ended  with  the  affair 
at  Piketon,  resulting  in  the  rebel  forces  being  driven  into  Virginia. 

After  the  expedition  started,  the  other  five  companies  of  the  24th,  under 
Col.  Grigsby,  were  left  at  Hazel  Green  to  guard  our  communications  and 
the  depot  of  supplies  at  that  place. 

When  the  campaign  was  over,  the  24th  was  ordered  by  Gen.  Nelson  to 
take  station  again  at  the  Olympian  Springs,  to  complete  its  regimental  or- 
ganization, and  guard  that  region  of  country.  It  remained  there  until  De- 
cember, 1861,  when  it  was  ordered  to  Lexington,  Ky.,  and  was  joined  by 
Capt.  Smith's  company,  from  Montgomery;  Capt.  Scovill's  company,  from 
Laurel;  Capt.  Hall's  company,  from  Powell,  and  Capt.  Potter's  company, 
from  Knox — making  the  regiment  complete,  with  ten  companies — about  a 
thousand  men,  rank  and  file. 

The  regiment  then  elected  regimental  officers,  resulting  in  the  choice  of 
Grigsby  as  Colonel,  myself  Lieut-Colonel,  and  Smith,  Major.  James  Turner 
was  made  Adjutant,  David  Trumbo  Quartermaster,  and  James  Sympson, 
Surgeon  of  the  regiment. 

On  the  3ist  day  of  December,  1861,  the  24th  regiment  was  mustered 
into  the  military  service  of  the  U.  S.  by  Capt.  Bankhead,  for  the  term  of 
three  years,  or  during  the  war. 

You  were  with  us  at  that  time,  and  are  loo  familiar  with  the  history  of 
the  regiment  to  need  any  suggestions  from  me  up  to  the  27th  of  June,  1864, 
when  you  were  so  severely  wounded  at  the  desperate  charge  on  Kenesaw 
Mountain. 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE. 


53 


I  will  only  add  that  the  regiment  participated  in  the  battles  around  At- 
lanta, resulting  in  its  fall,  and  also  that,  under  my  direction,  it  performed 
that  perilous  task  of  burning  and  destroying  the  rebel  pontoon  timber 
bridge  on  the  Augusta  road,  under  the  siege-guns  of  Atlanta. 

When  Gen.  Sherman  made  his  movement  to  capture  the  Macon  road, 
on  the  1st  of  September,  1864, — a  movement  that  forced  Gen.  Hood  to 
evacuate  Atlanta — I  was  in  command  of  the  leading  regiment,  the  24th 
Ky.,  of  Gen.  J.  D.  Cox's  division,  with  skirmishers  deployed  under  com- 
mand of  Lieut.-Col.  Lafayette  North;  and  these  were  the  first  Federal 
troops  that  struck  the  Macon  road  near  Rough  and  Ready,  and  came  near 
capturing  a  train  of  cars.  We  instantly  cut  the  telegraph  wires,  thus  sever- 
ing coiick  communication  between  Hood  at  Atlanta,  and  Hardee's  corps 
at  Jonesboro.  This  was  the  evening  before  the  battle  of  Jonesboro,  in 
which  Hardee  was  defeated,  and  Hood  \vas  compelled  to  evacuate  Atlanta. 

After  the  fall  of  Atlanta,  the  24th  regiment's  term  of  service  having  ex- 
pired, it  was  sent  to  Covington,  where  it  was  mustered  out  on  the  3ist  day 
of  January,  1865,  having  served  the  State  and  Nation  three  years,  four 


months  and  two  days. 


Truly  yours, 


J.  S.  HURT. 


The  following  were  the  various  company  officers  of  the  24th 
Kentucky,  from  its  organization  to  its  close.  There  were  sev- 
eral promotions  among  these  officers  to  higher  grades,  but 
some  of  them  were  not  mustered  into  the  United  States  service. 


Company  A. 
Hector  H.  Scoville,  .    .    .  Captain. 

Wiley  Jones, 1st  Lieut. 

Wm.  B.  Johnson,  ....       " 
Daniel  O.  Morin,   .    .    .    2d  Lieut. 
George  W.  Freeman,     .    .       " 

Company  B. 

James  Carey, Captain. 

Washington  J.  Mclntyre,  1st  Lieut. 

John  Henry, 2d  Lieut. 

Daniel  F.  Winchester,  .    .       " 

Co  in  pa  nv  C. 

Green  V.  Hall, Captain. 

Joseph  L.  Judy,      ...     1st  Lieut. 

John  Kinney, '• 

Thomas  J.  Bush,  ....  " 
Stephen  G.  Lewis,  ...  " 
James  McChristy,  ...  id  Lieut. 


Company  F. 
James  A.  Hawkins,  .    .    .  Captain. 

James  Blue, " 

Thomas  J.  Bush,  ....  " 
John  N.  Mclntyre,  ...  " 
Wm.  H.  Norris,  .  .  .  1st  Lieut. 
Thomas  N.  Likes  ...  " 
Cornelius  E.  Mastin,  .  .  " 
Dillon  White,  ....  2d  Lieut. 

Company  G. 

Peter  T.  Hedges,  ....  Captain. 
John  J.  Sewell,  ....  1st  Lieut. 
John  C.  Padgett,  .  .  .  2d  Lieut. 

Company  II. 

Edmund  Jones,      ....  Captain. 
Robert  G.  Potter,  ....         " 
Reuben  Langford  ....         " 
James  II.  Wilson,  .    .    .    1st  Lieut. 
Richard  L.  Ewell,     .    .     2cl  Lieut. 


54  A  CHECKERED  LIFE. 

Company  D.  Company  /. 

George  R.  Barber,     .    .    .  Captain.          Roy  D.  Davidson,     .    .    .  CapUrin. 
Mathias  T.  S.  Lee,   .    .     1st  Lieut.         Fountain  Good  paster.    .    .         " 
Lander  Barber,  .    .    .    .    2d  Lieut.         Wm  G.  Howard,   .    .    .    ist  Lieut. 

Company  E.  John  A.  Joyce, " 

Lafayette  North,    ....  Captain.         Daniel  Wilson,  .    .    .    .    2d  Lieut. 
John  M.  Gill,     ....     1st  Lieut.         Julius  C.  Miller,     .... 
Wilkins  Warner,   .    .    .     2d  Lieut.         Benjamin  P.  Desilve,    .    .         " 
Jessee  P.  Nelson,  ....        " 

Company  A'. 

John  J.  Evans, Captain. 

James  M.  Anderson,    .    .         " 

James  Caughlin,  ...      ist  Lieut. 

T.  D.  Moss, 2d  Lieut. 

David  G.  Howell,  . 


The  number  of  enlisted  men  at  the  organization  of  the 
regiment  was  664,  addition  soon  after  by  recruits  400,  mak- 
ing the  total  number  of  enlisted  men  1,064.  The  loss  by 
battle,  disease,  missing,  transferred  and  discharged,  was  694, 
leaving  only  370  to  be  mustered  out  at  the  expiration  of  the 
regiment's  term  of  service. 

I  joined  Company  I,  24th  Ky.,  as  a  private,  doing  guard  duty 
many  a  frosty  night,  and  meditating  on  my  future  of  "three 
years  or  daring  the  war."  In  the  lonely  midnight  hours,  pac- 
ing my  measured  beat  around  the  old  fair-grounds,  I  deter- 
mined to  become  an  officer,  and  give  up  the  musket  for  the 
sword,  believing  that  I  could  be  of  more  service  to  the  Union 
in  the  latter  capacity  than  in  the  humble  though  honorable 
station  of  a  private  soldier. 

The  24th  remained  in  Lexington  some  weeks,  completing 
its  regimental  organization,  and  the  raw  recruits  went  through 
squad  and  company  drill  each  day.  Dress-parade  was  held  at 
the  fair-grounds  each  morning,  where  many  citizens  attended. 
It  was  a  difficult  thing  to  keep  the  men  in  camp. 

The  captain  of  my  company,  Roy  D.  Davidson,  recognized 
my  education.  The  first  opportunity  presented,  I  was  pro- 
moted from  the  ranks  to  the  position  of  orderly  sergeant, 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE.  55 

becoming  the  practical  man  of  the  company,  and  the  confi- 
dential soldier  of  the  captain. 

After  a  few  weeks'  drill,  and  when  the  regiment  was  com- 
pletely equipped  with  all  the  requirements  necessary  to  the 
prosecution  of  active  duties  in  the  field,  we  were  ordered  to 
Louisville,  Ky.,  by  General  D.  C.  Buell,  the  Department 
Commander. 

On  the  1 2th  of  January,  1862,  we  marched  through  the 
streets  of  Lexington,  drums  beating  and  banners  flying,  and 
took  the  cars  for  Louisville,  where  we  arrived  on  the  following 
day,  camping  at  the  Oaklands,  near  the  city.  The  regiment 
remained  here  until  the  ipth,  when  it  proceeded  to  Bards- 
town,  Ky.,  where  we  were  properly  brigaded,  Colonel  Wm. 
Lyttle  commanding,  and  assigned  to  the  division  of  General 
Thomas  J.  Wood,  a  West  Point  graduate.  We  remained  at 
Camp  Morton  until  the  yth  of  March,  when  we  took  our  line 
of  travel  to  the  town  of  Lebanon.  The  battle  of  Mill  Springs 
had  been  fought  by  General  Thomas  about  this  time,  and 
many  of  the  wounded  on  both  sides  were  being  cared  for  in 
the  hospitals  of  the  town.  The  rebel  General  Zollicoffer,  of 
Nashville,  was  killed  in  the  fight  by  Col.  Speed  S.  Frey,  who 
commanded  the  4th  Kentucky  Infantry.  The  body  of  the 
heroic  son  of  the  South  fell  inside  the  Union  lines,  and  was 
forwarded  to  his  friends  in.  Nashville,  where  he  had  but 
recently  departed  with  all  the  hopes  that  inspire  valor. 

The  regiment  marched  to  Springfield  and  New  Market, 
and  countermarched  to  Lebanon,  and  thence  to  Mumfords- 
ville,  on  to  Cave  City  and  Bowling  Green,  reaching  camp  on 
the  ist  of  March. 

On  the  line  of  the  Louisville  and  Nashville  Railroad,  the 
rebel  General  Hindman  had  torn  up  the  track  in  a  number  of 
places,  causing  Buell 's  army  to  proceed  slowly,  repairing  the 
road  as  it  moved  along.  Various  tunnels  were  blown  up  to 
give  the  forces  of  the  enemy,  stationed  at  Bowling  Green, 
ample  time  to  fall  back  on  Nashville.  On  the  5th  of  March, 
Wood's  division  moved  out  on  the  pike  from  Bowling  Green, 


5 6  A  CHECKERED  LIFE. 

and  by  easy  marches  arrived  in  Nashville  on  the  131!!,  camp- 
ing near  the  city,  which  had  recently  been  evacuated  by  the 
enemy.  I  had  just  received  a  commission  as  second  lieuten- 
ant, and  emerged  from  the  role  of  an  enlisted  man  to  the 
exalted  station  of  a  United  States  officer. 

The  armies  of  Grant  and  Buell  were  making  simultaneous 
movements  on  the  rebel  forces  supposed  to  be  concentrating 
on  the  Tennessee  River,  near  Pittsburg  Landing.  Grant  was 
moving  up  the  Tennessee  on  transports  to  the  town  of  Savan- 
nah, while  Buell  was  marching  across  the  plains  and  iron  hills 
of  middle  Tennessee  to  the  same  place. 

The  battles  of  Mill  Springs,  Fort  Donelson  and  Fort 
Henry  had  given  a  new  impetus  to  the  Union  forces,  and 
General  Halleck,  from  his  headquarters  at  St.  Louis,  directed 
a  grand  movement  on  the  railroad  communications  between 
Corinth,  Meridian  and  Chattanooga.  To  secure  these  rail- 
roads woulol  greatly  intercept  communication  between  the 
armies  of  Lee  in  the  east,  and  Johnson  and  Beauregard  in  the 
south-west,  and  give  to  the  Union  armies  a  strong  hold  of  the 
backbone  of  the  South. 

On  the  2 pth  of  March  my  regiment  moved  out  on  the 
Franklin  pike  with  Wood's  division,  by'  quick  marches,  to 
Savannah,  Tennessee.  We  passed  through  Spring  Hill,  cross- 
ing the  Duck  River  at  Columbia,  and  marching  on  through 
the  beautiful  valley,  dotted  with  highly  cultivated  farms  and 
stately  mansions  of  the  slave  aristocrats  of  Tennessee.  The 
Pillows,  Polks  and  Jacksons  had  settled  in  this  smiling  valley 
years  before,  and  by  their  intelligence  and  wealth  made  it 
blossom  like  the  rose.  Great,  tall,  ancestral  oaks,  black  walnut 
and  white  ash,  covered  the  rolling  hills  and  blooming  vales, 
and  all  nature  wore  the  green  garb  of  prosperity.  The  pro- 
prietors, however,  had  gone  to  fight  for  their  rights,  leaving 
behind  their  women,  children  and  slaves,  to  weather  the 
storms  of  war  as  best  they  might. 

The  line  of  war  kept  winding  towards  the  Tennessee  River 
like  a  huge  black  snake,  passing  Mount  Pleasant  and  Waynes- 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE. 


57 


boro,  across  a  long  sterile  ridge  covered  with  tall  pines,  iron 
furnaces  and  charcoal  pits.  Swollen  mountain  streams  and 
muddy  roads  intercepted  our  progress,  the  wagons  sinking  to 
the  hubs,  the  poor  mules  to  their  knees,  and  the  soldiers  often 
drenched  to  the  skin  with  slush  and  rain. 

On  Sunday,  April  6th,  1862,  when  thirty  miles  from  Savan- 
nah; we  heard  the  long  roar  of  heavy  artillery,  sounding  over 
the  rugged  hills  of  Tennessee  like  periodical  thunder  claps 
from  a  distance. 

Orders  were  passed  all  along  the  lines  to  quit  wagons,  bag- 
gage, tents  and  all  extra  accoutrements,  and  with  light  haver- 
sacks, sixty  rounds  of  cartridges  and  our  Springfield  rifles,  we 
dashed  off  in  the  evening  for  a  thirty-mile  march  to  the  ter- 
rible battle  of  Shiloh. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

THE    BATTLE    OF    SHILOH. 

The  roar  of  the  wicked  gun-boats,  Tyler  and  Lexington, 
and  the  rumble  of  field-pieces  broke  upon  our  ears  like  a  sad 
requium  over  the  graves  of  buried  heroes.  Bomb,  bomb, 
thrumb,  thrumb,  sounded  the  music  of  our  march,  and  through 
that  long  Sunday  night  the  incessant  song  of  the  murderous 
gun-boats  was  the  death-knell  of  many  a  son  of  the  South. 
The  flood-gates  of  heaven  seemed  open  that  fearful  night,  and 
the  rain  came  down  on  the  wearied  trudging  soldiers  like 
hail-stones. 

The  roads  were  worked  into  sticky  slush  by  the  artillery 
wagons,  and  the  weary  warriors  wound  along  amid  peals  of 
thunder  and  flashes  of  lightning,  looking  like  gnomes  from 
some  infernal  region.  It  was  a  hitch  and  a  halt,  a  push  and  a 
run,  a  rest  and  a  route,  until  the  straggling  shanties  of  Savan- 
nah came  into  view  on  the  swollen  waters  of  the  Tennessee, 
just  as  the  gray  of  morning  dissipated  the  black  shadows  of 
night  and  brought  another  day  of  battle  and  blood. 

In  passing  through  the  streets  of  Savannah  down  to  the 
transport  steamer  that  was  to  take  us  to  the  battle-field,  six 
miles  above,  I  saw  for  the  first  time  wounded  soldiers  borne 
on  stretchers  from  the  bloody  work  at  the  front.  An  hour 
before,  the  proud  form  of  the  soldier  had  been  rushing  on  the 
enemy  with  the  spirit  of  a  lion ;  but  now  his  mangled  manhood 
lay  prostrate,  carried  to  the  rear  by  sorrowing  comrades, 
never  again,  perhaps,  to  mingle  his  voice  with  the  roar  of 
battle,  sing  love-songs  around  the  nightly  bivouac,  or  greet  the 
loved  ones  at  home. 

58 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE. 


59 


The  24th  Kentucky  was  immediately  pushed  aboard  the 
transport  steamer  Evansville,  and  at  once  proceeded  to  the 
battle-field,  arriving  on  the  scene  of  slaughter  and  demoraliza- 
tion at  noon.  The  57th  Indiana  and  24th  Kentucky  were 
immediately  placed  in  line  of  battle  by  Col.  G.  D.  Wagner, 
commanding  the  2ist  Brigade,  while  the  i5th  and  4oth  Indi- 
ana supported  the  advancing  column. 

The  battle  was  raging,  and  the  enemy  was  making  a  last 
stand  on  the  rough  hills  behind  a  clump  of  water  oaks  and 
thick  hickory  underbrush,  when  amid  shot,  shell,  and  deadly 
buck  and  ball,  Colonel  Lewis  B.  Grigsby,  the  commander  of 
the  24th,  made  the  following  impromptu  speech  as  the  regi- 
ment rushed  to  battle  : 

"Fellow-soldiers,  the  field  of  honoris  before  you.  The  foe 
is  over  the  hill  waiting  your  salute.  Kentucky  looks  to  her 
soldiers  to  carry  the  flag  of  the  Union  to  victory.  Remember 
that  you  are  sons  of  the  heroic  men  who  fell  at  the  River 
Raisin,  New  Orleans,  and  on  the  bloody  plains  of  Buena 
Vista.  Stand  by  your  colors  to  the  last,  preferring  death  to 
defeat.  Now  at  the  enemy  !  Forward,  guide  right,  charge !" 

The  57th  Indiana  had  dashed  off  to  the  front  by  this  time, 
touching  on  the  left  of  Rosseau's  Brigade  of  Kentuckians,  of 
McCook's  Division;  while  the  24th  aligned  on  the  left  of  the 
gallant  Indianians,  all  charging  right  into  the  retreating  forces 
of  Van  Dorn  and  Breckenridge,  who  moved  with  a  sullen 
tread  from  their  victorious  ground  of  the  previous  day. 

About  a  quarter  of  a  mile  to  the  left  of  Shiloh  church,  and 
near  the  Corinth  road,  the  24th,  in  one  of  its  charges,  cap- 
tured about  forty  prisoners  and  sent  them  to  the  rear.  Among 
the  prisoners  were  a  field  officer,  a  chaplain,  and  a  surgeon 
named  Redwood,  of  an  Alabama  Regiment. 

During  the  afternoon  the  closing  battle-scenes  shifted  with 
alternate  success  and  defeat,  the  enemy  contesting  every  inch 
of  ground.  But  the  army  of  General  Buell,  commanded  by 
Nelson,  McCook,  Crittenden  and  Wood,  was  too  much  for  the 
heroic  warriors  of  Johnston  and  Beauregard.  About  4  o'clock 


60  A  CHECKERED  LIFE. 

the  enemy  was  in  full  retreat,  on  the  road  and  through  the 
interminable  forests  leading  to  Corinth.  Wood's  division 
followed  the  retreating  army  about  five  miles  out  on  the 
Corinth  road,  and  successfully  repelled  several  cavalry  dashes 
made  by  General  Forrest ;  although  in  one  instance  the  Con- 
federate General  dashed  right  through  the  7yth  Ohio  Infantry 
as  if  it  had  been  but  so  much  chaff,  scattering  the  blue-coats 
through  the  underbrush  and  tall  timber. 

The  darkness  of  night  put  an  end  to  the  bloody  battle ;  and 
after  throwing  out  pickets  on  the  various  roads,  Wood's  divi- 
sion marched  back  to  the  main  body  of  the  army. 

The  armies  of  Grant  and  Buell  slept  upon  the  battle-field 
that  soaking  Monday  night.  No  real  effort  was  made  to  fol- 
low the  retreating  foe.  We  were  only  too  glad  to  rest  after 
the  terrible  two  days  of  blood,  and  gather  up  the  remnant  of 
our  broken  forces. 

"  Our  bugles  sang  truce,  for  the  night-clouds  had  lowered, 

And  the  sentinel  stars  set  their  watch  in  the  sky ; 
And  thousands  had  sunk  on  the  ground  overpowered — 
The  weary  to  sleep,  and  the  wounded  to  die." 

Such  a  scene  of  havoc  and  desolation  as  the  field  of  Shiloh 
presented,  I  never  witnessed  in  the  marches  and  fights  of  after 
years.  Around  the  old  Shiloh  meeting-house  could  be  seen 
clumps  of  dead  soldiers,  scores  of  dead  horses,  broken  artillery 
caissons,  smashed  wagons,  tents  riddled  with  bullets,  trees  torn 
to  splinters,  underbrush  cut  down  by  the  murderous  Minnies, 
great  giant  oaks  blown  up  by  the  roots,  and  prostrate  like  the 
swollen  human  forms  that  festered  below ;  while  a  look  above 
presented  the  broken  arms  of  the  forest  as  they  moved  in  the 
chilling  night  winds  against  the  gloomy  outline  of  a  leaden 
sky! 

The  rain  came  down  in  torrents,  the  mud  and  forest  slush 
being  almost  knee-deep.  During  the  night  I  was  detailed  to 
take  charge  of  the  prisoners  that  we  had  captured  in  the  after- 
noon. They  were  collected  in  a  group  under  the  dripping 
leaves  and  branches  of  a  spreading  oak.  The  night  was 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE.  6r 

chilly,  the  soldiers  thinly  clad,  and  the  demon  of  hunger 
threatened  the  weary  warriors.  In  the  race  of  Buell  to  the 
battle-field,  commissary  and  regimental  wagons  had  been  left 
behind,  and  thousands  of  human  beings  were  without  shelter, 
save  such  temporary  covering  as  could  be  obtained  by  broken 
branches,  swamp  grass,  and  long  slabs  of  bark  peeled  from  sur- 
rounding trees. 

About  12  o'clock  Monday  night  I  was  taken  with  a  con- 
gestive chill  and  relieved  from  duty  by  Goodpaster,  my  com- 
panion Lieutenant  of  Company  "I."  In  searching  for  shelter 
from  the  drenching  rain  and  cutting  winds,  I  stumbled  into  a 
tent  that  had  been  riddled  by  bullets,  and  feeling  about  in  the 
midnight  darkness,  found  some  sleeping  soldiers.  In  my  wild 
hunt  for  rest  I  sank  down  between  the  sleepers,  pulling  their 
rough  blankets  over  my  shivering  frame.  Weary,  cold  and 
hungry,  I  soon  fell  into  a  deep  slumber,  and  on  the  airy  wings 
of  blissful  dreams  was  wafted  away  over  hill,  river  and  plain 
to  my  home  in  Kentucky.  I  sat  again  by  the  fireside  of  those 
I  loved,  and  basked  in  the  sunshine  of  bright  eyes.  How  my 
wild,  delirious  fancy  painted  happiness  in  the  beautiful  land 
of  slumber  and  imagination.  Angel  voices  lulled  me  to  re- 
pose, rare  viands  and  rich  food  haunted  my  hungry  eyes,  and 
sweet  music  cheered  my  sinking  soul.  The  chill  and  pain  of 
the  midnight  hour  vanished  away,  the  cold  gray  shadows  of 
morning  brightened  the  dark  woods,  and  some  straggling  com- 
rade roused  me  from  the  fantastic  flowers  and  melody  of  dream- 
land. The  heart  would  fain  slumber  and  the  chill  of  the  body 
beat  back  the  sweet  voices  that  implored  me  to  linger  in  the 
realm  of  fancy. 

"  '  Stay,  stay  with  us;  rest;  thou  art  weary  and  worn;' 
And  fain  was  their  war- broken  soldier  to  stay; 

But  sorrow  returned  with  the  dawning  of  morn, 
And  the  voice  in  my  dreaming  ear  melted  away." 

Sorrow  indeed  returned ;  for,  in  rousing  from  sleep,  I  dis- 
covered that  my  blanket  companions  were  dead,  having  been 
shot,  no  doubt,  that  terrible  Sunday  morning,  when  Sidney 


62  A  CHECKERED  LIFE. 

Johnston  and  his  dashing  heroes  rolled  over  the  Union  troops 
like  mad  waves  on  the  sea-shore.  At  the  door  of  the  Sibley 
tent  I  saw  dead  soldiers  scattered  about  like  huge  cord-wood 
sticks.  In  each  of  the  company  streets  tattered  tents, 
camp-kettles,  pans,  broken  guns,  torn  blankets,  empty  can- 
teens, haversacks  and  knapsacks,  lined  the  bloody  battle- 
ground. The  "Blue"  and  "Gray"  rested  side  by  side  in 
eternal  sleep.  Many  I  saw  were  grappled  in  death,  and  the 
bright  bayonet  that  did  the  desperate  work  was  clenched  in 
the  hand  that  dealt  the  murderous  blow. 

No  mind  can  conceive  or  pen  portray  the  startling  horrors 
of  Shiloh.  It  was,  for  the  number  engaged,  the  bloodiest 
battle  of  the  war,  and  the  very  pivot  of  the  victorious  Union. 
Had  Grant,  Buell  and  Sherman  been  defeated  at  Shiloh,  the 
Federal  forces  could  not  have  been  re-formed  for  battle  south 
of  the  Ohio  River  ;  and  Kentucky  and  Tennessee,  in  all  human 
probability,  would  have  been  lost  to  the  Union. 

At  seven  o'clock  on  the  morning  of  the  6th  of  April,  1862, 
the  division  of  Gen.  Sherman  occupied  the  advanced  position 
of  the  Union  army,  his  right  resting  on  the  Purdy  road,  near 
Owl  Creek,  and  his  left  stretching  in  front  and  beyond  Shiloh 
church  on  the  Corinth  road. 

The  division  of  Prentiss  was  on  the  left  of  Sherman,  and 
McClernand  occupied  the  line  in  rear  of  Sherman,  while 
Hurlbut  and  Stuart  were  farther  to  the  left  rear,  near  the  Ten- 
nessee River,  leaving  Lew.  Wallace,  with  his  lost  division,  in 
the  swamps  of  Snake  Creek. 

Gen.  Sherman's  division  stood  the  brunt  of  the  first  day's 
battle,  the  desperate  onslaught  of  Johnston  bearing  down  on 
his  left,  and  on  the  right  of  Prentiss,  with  the  weight  of  a 
roaring  flood,  compelling  the  first  line  to  fall  back  on  McCler- 
nand for  support,  which  was  given  promptly.  General  Pren- 
tiss and  quite  a  large  number  of  his  division  were  taken  pris- 
oners in  the  morning,  and  during  the  subsequent  fighting  his 
command  was  but  a  shattered  body  staggering  about  on  the 
bloody  field. 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE.  63 

Night  found  the  Union  forces  badly  demoralized,  their  left 
resting  on  the  Tennessee  River,  having  been  driven  from  three 
battle-lines  during  the  day.  McClernand's  and  Sherman's 
divisions  still  occupied  the  ragged  front  of  battle,  while  the 
victorious  Confederates  feasted  on  the  provender  of  the  Fed- 
eral troops. 

During  Sunday  night,  the  gun-boats  Tyler  and  Lexington 
kept  up  a  periodical  fire  on  the  enemy,  throwing  shells  into 
the  ranks  of  the  victors.  Grant  and  Buell  had  a  consultation 
with  their  subordinates  on  Sunday  night,  wherein  it  was  deter- 
mined to  take  the  offensive  on  Monday,  and  retrieve  our  lost 
ground,  if  possible. 

Lew.  Wallace  occupied  the  extreme  right  of  the  Union 
forces,  with  Sherman,  McClernand,  Hurlbut,  McCook,  Wood, 
Crittenden  and  Nelson  extending  for  two  miles  to  the  left, 
making  a  cordon  of  determined  bayonets  ready  to  pierce  the 
enemy.  They  moved  against  the  Confederate  forces  in  unex- 
pected strength  early  Monday  morning ;  and,  while  varying 
success  characterized  the  contending  armies  during  the  second 
day  of  the  great  battle,  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  found 
the  rebel  warriors  in  full  retreat,  and  the  Union  army  com- 
pletely victorious. 

I  am  satisfied  that  the  Army  of  the  Ohio,  commanded  by 
Gen.  Buell,  turned  defeat  into  victory,  and  were  it  not  for  the 
timely  arrival  of  six  divisions,  the  brave  soldiers  of  Grant  and 
Sherman  would  have  been  driven  into  the  Tennessee  River, 
or  captured  by  the  daring  soldiers  of  Johnston  and  Beauregard. 

Gen.  Sherman,  in  his  Shiloh  report,  says  that  Rousseau's 
brigade  of  McCook's  division  advanced  beautifully,  deployed, 
and  entered  the  dreaded  wood  where  a  few  moments  before 
Willich  suffered  defeat.  He  says  :  "I  saw  for  the  first  time  the 
well-ordered  and  compact  columns  of  Gen.  Buell' s  Kentucky 
forces,  whose  soldierly  movements  at  once  gave  confidence  to  our 
newer  and  less  disciplined  men. 

Whole  Union  regiments  from  Ohio,  Indiana,  Illinois,  Mich- 
igan, Missouri  and  Kentucky,  were  literally  used  up,  and  it  was 


64  A  CHECKERED  LIFE. 

days  and  weeks  after  the  battle  before  some  Ohio  regiments 
could  be  found,  to  form  a  nucleus  for  re-organization. 

May  be  it  has  never  occurred  to  the  peaceful  citizen  of  to- 
day how  much  he  is  indebted  to  Grant,  Sherman,  Meade, 
Sheridan,  Thomas,  McPherson,  Hancock  and  other  gallant 
commanders,  for  the  blessings  that  came  with  the  salvation  of 
the  Union  and  the  starry  flag.  We  think  of  these  men,  little 
realizing  that  to  their  brain,  nerve,  dash  and  valor  is  largely 
due  the  establishment  of  a  Union  without  a  slave,  and  a  nation 
without  a  peer.  They  will  only  be  entirely  appreciated  after 
their  death,  when  their  scurrilous  detractors  are  rotting  in  un- 
remembered  graves.  Their  statues,  in  marble  and  bronze,  will 
decorate  the  parks  or  the  National  Capital,  telling  to  genera- 
tions yet  unborn  the  glowing  history  of  their  heroic  actions  at 
Donelson,  Shiloh,  Gettysburg,  Winchester,  Atlanta  and  Ap- 
pomatox. 

Our  forces  held  the  field  of  Shiloh,  but  that  was  all :  and 
while  the  enemy  leisurely  retreated  to  Corinth,  the  victorious 
army  showed  no  disposition  to  follow,  but  wallowed  along  like 
a  huge  anaconda  for  seven  weeks,  through  the  swamps  and 
forests  of  Tishimingo  county,  before  reaching  Corinth,  only 
thirty  miles  away  !  Gen.  Halleck  was  preparing  for  a  great 
battle  with  his  hundred  thousand  fresh  soldiers,  and  when  he 
actually  got  ready  to  strike  the  blow  against  Beauregard  on  the 
3oth  of  May,  1862,  found  that  the  heroic  Confederate  had 
evacuated  Corinth  with  his  entire  army,  two  days  before,  leav- 
ing nothing  to  our  grand  parade  General  but  long  lines  of 
empty  breastworks,  broken  camp-kettles,  and  a  few  ragged 
prisoners  ! 

It  was  laughable  to  see  the  preparations  Gen.  Halleck  made 
for  the  great  impending  battle  which  was  to  come  off  at  Cor- 
inth. Rows  of  large  hospital  tents,  to  accommodate  a  thou- 
sand men,  were  erected  along  the  Purdy,  Farmington  and  Cor- 
inth roads  ;  nice,  new  cots,  furnished  with  clean  linen  sheets  ; 
rose  blankets  ;  variegated  quilts,  and  pillows  with  frilled  cases, 
had  been  sent  from  the  North  to  comfort  would-be  wounded 
warriors. 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE.  65 

When  long  rifle-pits  were  dug  every  mile  cr  so  through  the 
woods,  the  "boys"  would  say  that  they  wrere  all  owing  to  the 
great  forethought  of  Gen.  Halleck,  who  not  only  fixed  up  beds 
and  shelter  for  the  living,  but  provided  new-made  graves  for 
the  dead  !  The  old  General  did  everything  in  tip-top  styL\ 
according  to  his  "  elements  of  war,"  except — fighting  !  Tiri; 
necessary  element  of  war  seemed  to  be  a  secondary  considera- 
tion with  the  great  tactician.  Yet,  at  that  time  the  war  was 
young,  arid  the  Generals  had  to  grow  to  the  idea  that  the  ene- 
my had  to  be  conquered,  not  by  kindness,  but  by  killing. 

The  following  extracts  from  official  reports  will  show,  in  suc- 
cessive form,  the  place  and  conduct  of  various  regiments,  brig- 
ades and  divisions  of  the  army  at  Shiloh  : 

General  D.  C.  Buell  says : 

Headquarters  Army  of  the  Ohio,          "I 
Field  of  Shiloh,  April  I5th,  1862.  / 

"  Two  brigades  of  Gen.  Wood's  division  arrived  just  at  the 
close  of  the  battle,  but  only  one  of  them  (Col.  G.  D.  Wag- 
ner's) in  time  to  participate  actively  in  the  pursuit,  which  it 
continued  for  about  a  mile,  and  until  halted  by  my  order. 
Its  skirmishers  became  engaged  for  a  few  minutes  with  the 
skirmishers  (cavalry  and  infantry)  of  the  enemy's  rear  guard, 
which  made  a  momentary  stand.  It  was  also  fired  upon  by  the 
enemy's  artillery  on  its  right  flank,  but  without  effect.  It  was 
well  conducted  by  its  commander,  and  showed  great  steadi- 
ness. ' ' 

General  Thomas  J.  Wood  says  : 

Headquarters  6th  Division,  Army  of  the  Ohio,      \ 
Battle-field  near  Pittsburg  Landing,  April  loth,  1862.  / 

"  Savannah  was  reached  early  on  the  morning  of  the  yth, 
and  as  soon  as  possible  the  embarkation  for  the  battle-field 
commenced.  Wagner's  brigade,  (the  2ist),  consisting  of  the 
i5th,  4oth  and  57^h  Indiana,  and  24th  Kentucky  Volunteers, 
was  first  embarked.  In  order  to  hasten,  by  my  personal  super- 
vision, the  embarkation  of  the  remainder  of  the  troops,  I  re- 
mained in  Savannah  till  the  2oth  brigade  (Garfield's)  embarked, 
and  ordered  one  of  my  Aides-de-camp  (Capt.  Leonard)  to  ac- 


66  A  CHECKERED  Lll-E. 

company  the  2i st  brigade  to  the  battle-field  and  report  it  io 
the  Commanding  General.  The  brigade  had  fully  debarked 
at  12  M.,  and  for  its  operations  from  that  hour  to  my  own  ar- 
rival at  i  P.  M.,  I  refer  you  to  Col.  Wagner's  report,  herewith 
submitted,  with  the  simple  remark  that  it  did  good  service  in 
driving  the  enemy  from  his  last  strong  stand,  and  compelling 
him,  by  a  vigorous  pursuit,  to  a  rapid  retread" 

Colonel  G.  D.  Wagner  says  : 

Headquarters  cist  Lrigacle,  ~) 

Camp  near  Pittsburg  Landing,  April  9th,  1862.  / 

"  I  have  the  honor  to  inform  you  that  this  brigade  arrived 
upon  the  battle-field  on  Monday,  April  yth,  in  time  to  partic- 
ipate in  the  winding  up  of  the  great  battle  of  that  date.  We 
disembarked  and  were  immediately  ordered  by  General  Grant 
to  reinforce  the  left  wing  of  the  army,  which  was  then  being 
hotly  pressed  by  the  enemy.  The  5  yth  Indiana  Volunteers 
were  first  engaged,  being  thrown  out  to  the  right  of  the  brig- 
ade, and  on  the  left  of  Gen.  McCook,  where  they  did  good 
service,  advancing  upon  the  enemy  under  a  heavy  fire,  with 
the  coolness  of  veterans,  mtil  the  enemy  were  driven  from  the 
field.  I  was  ordered  by  Gen.  Buell  to  take  up  a  position  on 
the  Corinth  road  with  the  remaining  portion  of  my  brigade, 
to-wit :  the  1 5th  and  4oth  Indiana  and  24th  Kentucky.  We 
advanced  in  line  of  battle,  driving  the  enemy  before  us,  with 
infantry,  cavalry  and  artillery.  The  cavalry  were  soon  dis- 
persed by  a  few  volleys  from  our  advanced  line,  with  consider- 
able loss  to  themselves,  the  infantry  retreating  at  the  same  time. 
We  captured  some  forty  prisoners,  among  whom  was  a  field 
officer,  a  chaplain  and  a  surgeon  ;  and  retook  some  of  our  men 
who  had  been  captured.  The  enemy  at  the  same  time  retreat- 
ed beyond  the  range  of  our  guns.  I  was  then  ordered  by 
Gen.  Buell  to  retain  that  position,  which  I  did  until  your  ar- 
rival. I  must  be  allowed  to  commend  the  coolness  of  both 
officers  and  men  of  my  entire  command." 

The  following  letter,  written  after  a  lapse  of  twenty  years 
from  the  battle  of  Shiloh,  gives  the  opinion  of  a  great  General 
concerning  war  matters,  and  the  controversies  of  to-day,  in- 
dulged in  by  little  people  at  the  rear,  who  were  always  com- 
plaining and  talking  when  officers  and  soldiers  at  the  front 
were  fighting  and  dying  for  the  salvation  of  the  flag : 


.-/   CHECKERED  LIFE.  67 

Headquarters  Army  of  the  United  States,  1 
Washington,  D.  C.,  May  i8th,  1882.      > 


JOHN  A.  JOYCE,  Esq., 

Washington,  D.  C. 

Dear  Sir :  I  beg  to  acknowledge  rect  ipt  of  your  letter  of 
May  iyth,  asking  me  to  give  you  in  writing,  for  publication,  a  statement 
"  epigrammatically  of  the  philosophy  and  bravery  that  impelled  my  division 
to  resist  the  bloody  encounter  of  Johnston  at  Shiloh,  and  the  desperate  ma- 
neuvres  of  Hood  at  Atlanta." 

This  is  no  easy  task;  and  as  I  have  hitherto — in  reports,  publications, 
letters  and  speeches — given  to  the  public  my  version  of  the  facts  in  both 
these  cases,  I  prefer  not  to  condense  any  further. 

In  war,  success  ends  all  reasonable  confroversies. 

At  Shiloh  the  Union  armies  were  eminently  successful — as  also  at  Atlanta 
— and  there  the  controversy  should  end. 

Historians  may  dispute  the  details,  and  account  for  results;  but  I  would 
not  ask  any  man  to  see  with  my  eyes  without  having  all  the  witnesses. 

The  printed  proceedings  of  the  Army  of  the  Tennessee  contain  much 
valuable  testimony  about  both  .these  events,  and  I  advise  you  to  consult 
them  before  completing  your  work. 

I  wish  you  all  possible  success  in  your  undertaking. 
With  respect, 

Yours  truly, 

W.  T.    SllKRMAN. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

CORINTH    AND    ALABAMA    CAMPAIGN. 

On  the  ist  of  June,  1862,  General  Halleck  had  a  hundred 
thousand  soldiers  in  front  of  Corinth,  ready  for  battle  at  a  mo- 
ment's warning.  Beauregard  had  retreated  to  the  south,  leav- 
ing the  Memphis  &  Charleston  Railroad  in  possession  of  the 
Union  forces,  who  commanded  a  great  portion  of  the  Mobile 
&  Ohio  Railroad  communications. 

The  armies  of  Pope,  Buell  and  Grant,  commanded  by  Hal- 
leck, could  have  inarched  at  that  time  through  the  Confede- 
racy, and  whipped  any  army  that  the  enemy  could  have  assem- 
bled. The  colors  of  the  victorious  heroes  of  Shiloh  could 
have  been  planted  over  the  tall  steeples  of  Vicksburg  or  Mo- 
bile. By  cutting  loose  from  our  base  of  supply  and  subsisting 
off  the  country,  we  could  have  marched  and  fought  through 
Mississippi,  Alabama  and  South  Carolina,  unfurling  our  flag 
over  Charleston. 

A  hundred  thousand  men  can  whip  in  detail  twice  its  num- 
ber. Courage,  discipline,  intelligence  and  superior  arms  are 
the  pivots  upon  which  great  battles  are  won.  Miltiades,  at 
the  battle  of  Marathon,  near  Athens,  more  than  twenty-three 
hundred  years  ago,  whipped  a  hundred  thousand  Persians  with 
eleven  thousand  valiant  Greeks.  The  Persians  lost  six  thousand 
four  hundred  men,  while  the  Athenian  loss  was  only  one  hun- 
dred and  ninety-two. 

The  disparity  in  the  losses  of  the  contending  armies  is  ac- 
counted for  by  the  superior  spears,  breast-plates,  helmets  and 
arrows  of  the  Greeks,  combined  with  their  great  daring  and 
renowned  intelligence.  The  Persians  were  only  equipped  with 

68 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE.  69 

wicker  breast-plates  and  short  spears,  and  inspired  only  by  the 
ignoble  spirit  of  cupidity. 

The  army  of  the  Union  at  Corinth  was  inspired  with  the 
lofty  idea  of  human  liberty  and  the  salvation  of  the  Republic, 
while  the  enemy  could  only  boast  of  fighting  for  their  local 
rights  and  the  liberty  to  hold  four  million  human  beings  in 
abject  slavery.  Gjd  and  nature  denied  them  success  ;  for  he 
who  attempts  to  enslave  his  fellow  man  is  forging  shackles  for 
himself. 

What  Halleck  did  not  do  in  June,  1862,  with  a  hundred 
thousand  men,  Sherman  with  sixty-two  thousand  soldiers  suc- 
cessfully performed  in  November  and  December,  1864,  two 
years  and  a  half  afterwards.  He  marched  to  the  sea,  smash- 
ing right  through  the  Confederacy,  never  resting  by  river, 
forest  or  swamp,  until  he  planted  the  old  flag  over  Savannah, 
on  the  morning  of  December  2ist,  1864. 

"Oh,  proud  was  our  army  that  morning, 
That  stood  where  the  pine  darkly  towers, 

When  Sherman  said  :  '  Boys,  you  are  weary, 
But  to-day  fair  Savannah  is  ours.' 

Then  sang  we  a  song  of  our  Chieftain, 

That  echoed  o'er  river  and  lea, 
And  the  stars  in  our  banners  shone  brighter 

When  Sherman  camped  down  by  the  sea." 

The  grand  army  of  Halleck  broke  up  in  front  of  Corinth. 
Pope,  with  his  command,  went  east ;  Grant  and  Sherman  went 
to  the  south-west,  on  the  Mississippi  line  of  action ;  while 
Buell  and  Thomas  went  north-east,  towards  Chattanooga  and 
the  upper  Tennessee. 

The  division  of  Gen.  Wood  marched  out  on  the  Fannington 
road  on  the  2d  of  June,  keeping  along  the  line  of  the  Chat- 
tanooga Railroad.  My  regiment  proceeded  with  the  com- 
mand, over  bad  roads  and  through  pelting  rain-storms,  passing 
through  luka,  a  pretty  mountain  town,  on  the  4th,  and  on  to 
Bear  River,  where  the  railroad  bridge  had  been  previously 


70  A  CHECKERED  Lll-E. 

destroyed.  Lieut. -Colonel  James  N.  Kirpatrick,  of  the  4oth 
Indiana,  was  drowned  while  performing  his  duty  in  rebuilding 
the  bridge.  He  was  a  gallant  officer,  and  his  unfortunate 
death  cast  a  shadow  of  gloom  over  our  whole  brigade. 

The  24th  assisted  in  rebuilding  the  bridge,  which  was  fin- 
ished in  a  few  days,  making  uninterrupted  communication  for 
cars  back  to  Corinth  and  forward  to  Tuscumbia,  where  an- 
other bridge  had  been  destroyed.  My  regiment  was  again 
called  into  requisition  in  getting  out  timbers  for  the  new  struct- 
ure. We  remained  about  Tuscumbia  from  the  i4th  of  June 
to  the  25th,  when  the  regiment  took  up  its  line  of  march  for 
Decatur,  on  the  Tennessee. 

The  town  of  Tuscumbia  is  situated  in  a  delightful  location, 
the  surrounding  hills  and  lovely  valleys,  stretching  away  to 
the  distant  horizon,  filling  the  eye  and  heart  with  peace  and 
beauty.  The  largest  spring  in  the  United  States  bubbles  up 
from  an  abrupt  hill  adjacent  to  the  town.  It  is  wide  and  deep 
enough  to  float  a  steamboat  to  the  Tennessee,  some  eight  miles 
away.  The  water  is  clear  and  pure,  being  used  by  the  citizens 
for  drinking  purposes. 

The  march  from  Tuscumbia  to  Decatur  led  through  peace- 
ful valleys  and  fertile  fields,  where  corn  and  wheat  grew  in 
luxuriant  profusion,  nature  presenting  at  every  turn  abundant 
harvests  and  smiling  plains,  leaving  war  and  its  desolating 
track  to  man  and  his  vaulting  ambition. 

On  the  2yth  of  June  we  crossed  the  Tennessee  River  on  a 
gun-boat,  and  marched  east  some  six  miles,  where  the  division 
camped  for  rest  and  drill,  remaining  about  two  weeks.  The 
location  of  the  camp  was  all  that  soldiers  could  wish.  A  fine 
old  forest  stretched  away  to  the  Tennessee  River  in  primitive 
beauty,  and  a  large  number  of  crystal  springs  bubbled  up  from 
the  ground,  cool  and  refreshing  as  the  dews  of  morning. 

On  the  4th  of  July  a  large  number  of  Wood's  division  as- 
sembled at  the  headquarters  of  Garfield's  brigade,  to  hear  its 
eloquent  commander  discourse  upon  the  Declaration  of  Inde- 
pendence, the  Revolutionary  War,  and  the  heroic  sons  of 


.-/  CHECKERED  LIFE.  71 

Revolutionary  sires  who  still  battled  for  the  perpetuity  of  the 
Republic.  The  speech  of  Gen.  Garfield  revived  memories 
cf  home  and  friends;  and  as  the  soldier  went  bark  on  the 
wings  of  imagination  to  his  northern  fireside,  a  thrill  of  patri- 
otic inspiration  for  his  country  and  flag  found  continual  echo 
in  the  hearty  cheers  that  greeted  the  orator. 

The  army  of  Gen.  Buell  was  watching  the  movements  of 
the  enemy  under  Gen.  Braxton  Bragg,  and  as  that  officer  be- 
gan to  move  into  Tennessee,  the  Union  forces  broke  up  camp, 
passed  through  Huntsville,  Alabama,  on  the  13111  and  i4th 
of  July,  and  on  the  i6th  camped  near  Shelby ville.  From 
there  the  24th  passed  through  Wartrace,  camping  near  by 
for  a  few  days,  and  thence  to  Tullahoma,  marching  out  occa- 
sionally to  reconnoiter  for  the  enemy  or  procure  forage  for 
the  horses  and  provisions  for  the  men. 

While  in  camp  at  Wartrace,  on  the  28th  of  July,  I  was  sent 
for  and  appeared  at  the  tent  of  Col.  Grigsby,  the  regimental 
Commander.  He  informed  me  that  I  had  been  recommended 
for  Adjutant  of  the  24th,  and  ordered  me  to  take  charge  of 
the  reports,  books  and  papers,  at  once.  This  was  a  pleasant 
surprise,  as  I  had  not  sought  or  expected  the  distinction  and 
promotion  when  so  many  other  officers  of  home  influence 
aspired  to  fill  the  important  post. 

The  regiment  remained  at  Tullahoma  about  two  weeks, 
when  it  struck  tents  for  Manchester,  thence  to  McMinnville 
and  Vervilla,  where  it  drilled,  foraged  and  performed  picket 
duty  in  hunting  the  imagined  warriors  of  Bragg,  who  were 
reported  to  be  moving  about  the  brush  like  fire-flies  in  the 
Dismal  Swamp.  The  regiment  was  called  into  line  at  all 
hours  of  the  night.  Col.  Wagner,  the  brigade  Commander, 
would  dash  off  with  his  men  as  if  the  Confederacy  was  on  the 
eve  of  dissolution,  and  our  warriors  were  invited  to  handle  the 
corpse  and  set  a  stone  over  the  Great  Defunct.  It  was  noth- 
ing for  us  to  march  twenty  mile:;  in  a  night,  climb  the  heights 
of  Altamont,  ford  deep  streams,  skirmish  through  dense  cedar 
thickets,  and  be  back  the  next  morning  at  McMinnville. 


CHAPTER  IX. 
BRAGG' s  RAID  AND  OTHER  KENTUCKY  MATTERS. 

It  soon  became  known  that  Bragg,  with  thirty  thousand 
men,  had  stolen  a  march  on  Buell,  and  was  going  full  tilt  for 
Kentucky  and  the  Ohio  River.  The  Union  forces  picked  up 
their  military  accoutrements,  and  hurried  after  the  Confeder- 
ates. The  army  of  Buell  crossed  at  Nashville,  while  that  of 
Bragg  passed  through  Lebanon,  and  crossed  the  Cumberland 
at  Gallatin.  Then  it  was  a  race  for  Louisville  and  the  blue- 
grass  fields  of  Kentucky. 

At  Mumfordsville  there  was  a  fight,  where  the  marching 
armies  struck  together  and  bounced  off  to  the  right  and  left, 
like  bumping  steamers  in  a  river  race.  Bragg  evaded  a  gen- 
eral engagement,  and  Buell  seemed  anxious  to  reach  Louisville 
and  save  the  capital  city  of  Kentucky  from  Confederate  occu- 
pation, rather  than  push  the  enemy  and  force  him  to  battle. 

The  24th  camped  near  Louisville  on  the  251)1  of  September, 
and  for  nearly  a  week  the  whole  army  rested  without  following 
Bragg  into  the  interior  of  the  state.  On  the  ist  of  October, 
after  a  reorganization  of  the  army  into  corps,  we  marched  out 
on  the  Bardstown  road  towards  Springfield  and  Perryville, 
where  the  enemy  made  a  desperate  stand  and  suffered  a  bloody 
defeat. 

The  troops  of  McCook  and  Thomas  suffered  considerable 
loss  in  the  fierce  attack  of  Bragg.  He  had  been  compelled 
to  make  a  stand  at  Perryville,  in  order  to  gain  time  to  e-cape 
through  the  hills  of  Rockcastle  River  and  the  mountain  passes 
of  the  Cumberland.  Crittenden's  corps  did  not  do  much  in 
deciding  the  day  at  Per.yville,  as  for  some  reason  the  soldiers 

72 


A   CHECKERED  LIFE.  73 

were  kept  waiting  on  the  roads  and  in  the  woods  to  the  ex- 
treme right.  Gen.  Wood's  division  got  on  the  field  about 
three  o'clock.  My  regiment  wheeled  into  line  on  a  ridge 
overlooking  the  battle,  and  for  a  considerable  time  we  stood 
the  cannon  shot  and  shrieking  shells  of  the  enemy  as  they 
retreated  from  the  field.  Wagner's  brigade  advanced  in  the 
evening,  but  it  only  stumbled  over  the  killed  and  wounded. 
Night  put  an  end  to  the  contest.  We  rested  on  the  outer  line 
of  picket-posts,  ready  for  pursuit  and  battle  on  the  morning 
of  the  pth  of  October.  When  we  advanced,  it  was  found  that 
Bragg  had  crossed  Dix  River,  leaving  his  dead  and  wounded 
in  our  hands,  and  was  moving  in  full  flight  to  the  mountains 
of  south-eastern  Kentucky. 

Some  of  the  most  gallant  soldiers  of  Kentucky  were  killed 
in  the  battle  of  Perryville,  and  none  fell  with  more  heroic- 
grandeur  than  General  James  Jackson,  of  Louisville.  He  was 
a  noble  character,  generous  as  a  prince  and  brave  as  a  lion. 
His  death  cast  a  gloom  over  the  blood-purchased  victory,  and 
dimmed  the  luster  of  success. 

He  fell  in  the  heat  of  the  fight, 

\Yhile  charging  the  stubborn  foe ; 
Me  died  for  the  Flag  and  the  Right, 

In  the  years  of  the  long  ago. 

Buell  followed  Bragg  to  Danville,  Stanford,  Mount  Vernon, 
and  on  to  Rockcastle  River — thence  to  Wild  Cat,  London,  and 
to  the  ford  of  Cumberland  River.  In  many  places  Bragg  cut 
down  tall  trees,  throwing  them  across  the  mountain  roads. 
Our  progress  was  thus  interrupted,  and  as  the  enemy  were 
moving  out  of  Kentucky,  the  Union  troops  were  recalled  from 
the  chase,  and  leisurely  retraced  their  steps  to  Tennessee. 

While  the  troops  were  moving  among  the  Rockcastle  hills,  it 
was  difficult  to  get  a  square  meal,  as  our  commissary  stores 
had  been  left  behind  in  the  race  after  Bragg.  The  whole  army 
had  been  chucked  into  a  mountain  gorge,  as  it  were — a  rugged 
region  where  farmers  were  scarce,  and  provisions  almost  ex- 


74 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE. 


hausted.  What  the  enemy  did  not  consume  on  the  route,  the 
Union  soldiers  devoured  in  their  hungry  raids. 

I  remember  one  morning  at  Rockcastle  Ford,  giving  a  sol- 
dier a  two-dollar  and  a  half  pocket-knife  for  a  single  hard- 
tack cracker,  and  then  dividing  it  with  one  of  my  comrades. 
•  The  24th  returned  to  Mt.  Vernon,  Crab  Orchard  Springs 
and  Stanford — thence  to  Danville,  Columbia  and  Glasgow — 
where  it  camped  for  a  time  to  straighten  up  and  discipline  the 
men,  who  were  becoming  very  restless  at  leaving  Kentucky 
again  before  seeing  their  families. 

On  the  29th  of  October,  1862,  Colonel  L.  B.  Grigsby  was 
placed  in  command  of  the  2ist  Brigade,  by  Gen.  Thomas  J. 
Wood,  leaving  Hurt  in  command  of  the  regiment.  Great 
dissatisfaction  existed  among  the  men.  A  number  of  soldiers 
deserted  while  the  regiment  was  at  Glasgow,  and  for  some  un- 
known reason  Col.  Hurt  was  temporarily  displaced  by  General 
Wood,  leaving  the  command  of  the  24th  to  Capt.  Hector  H. 
Scoville,  a  solid  mountain  patriot.  From  Glasgow  the  regi- 
ment proceeded  to  Scottsville  and  Gallatin,  crossing  the  Cum- 
berland River  to  Lebanon  and  Silver  Springs,  on  the  road  to 
Stone  River  and  Nashville. 

After  commanding  the  brigade  for  three  weeks,  Col.  Grigsby 
returned  to  the  regiment,  and  at  once  proceeded  to  strengthen 
its  shattered  ranks.  He  went  to  Nashville  and  secured  an  order 
from  Gen.  Rosecrans  to  proceed  with  his  command  to  Ken- 
tucky and  report  to  the  commander  of  that  department.  The 
regiment  went  by  rail  from  Nashville  to  Louisville,  on  the  27th 
of  November,  and  arrived  at  Lexington  on  the  ist  of  Decem- 
ber. Through  the  months  of  December,  '62,  and  January, 
'63,  the  24th  recruited  its  depleted  ranks,  camping  a  great 
portion  of  the  time  on  the  high  hills  overlooking  the  Ken- 
tucky River  at  Frankfort. 

Gen.  Gilbert,  of  Ohio,  commanded  the  district  of  Frank- 
fort, and  regimental  reports  were  made  to  him.  Col.  Grigsby 
was  placed  in  immediate  command  of  the  city  post,  and  for  a 
time  his  headquarters  were  at  the  Governor's  mansion.  He 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE. 


75 


had  married  the  beautiful   daughter  of  Gov.  J.  F.  Rol)i. 
and  an  invitation  was  extended  to  the  gallant  Colonel  to  make 
his  headquarters,  personally  and  officially,  at  the  residence  of 
the  patriotic  Governor. 

I  acted  as  regimental  and  post  Adjutant,  doing  double  duty, 
and  put  in  a  good  portion  of  my  time  in  social  communion 
with  the  beautiful  girls  that  cluster  about  the  hospitable  homes 
of  Frankfort.  Evening  dress-parade  was  an  occasion  when 
all  the  pomp  of  military  glory  presented  itself  to  the  heart  and 
eyes  of  buoyant  boys  and  glorious  girls.  The  Adjutant,  with 
his  trim  military  cut,  bright  buttons,  golden  shoulder-straps 
and  flashing  sword,  presents  a  picture  of  dash  and  elegance  to 
the  hearts  of  susceptible  sweethearts. 

About  the  latter  part  of  January,  1863,  many  of  those  who 
had  been  absent,  with  and  without  leave,  returned  to  the  regi- 
ment and  took  their  places  in  the  ranks  of  honorable  soldiers. 
I  dislike  very  much  to  make  excuses  for  soldiers  who  desert 
their  post  of  duty ;  but  a  statement  in  connection  with  the 
men  who  took  French  leave  would  seem  to  be  just,  under  the 
peculiar  circumstances  surrounding  the  case  in  point. 

In  the  fall  of '62  and  winter  of '63,  the  proclamation  of 
President  Lincoln  freeing  all  the  slaves  was  talked  up  and  pro- 
mulgated. Many  of  the  men  of  my  regiment  were  directly 
or  indirectly  interested  in  slave  property;  and  thus,  while 
they  had  arms  in  their  hands,  fighting  for  the  integrity  of  the 
Union,  one  scratch  of  the  President's  pen  took  away  forever 
their  property,  placing  them  in  the  same  category  with  the 
men  who  rebelled  against  the  Government.  This  fact  made 
many  of  the  people  of  Kentucky  lukewarm  in  their  support 
of  the  Union,  and  was  the  cause  of  bitter  abuse  against  North- 
ern politicians  who  could  be  so  cruel  as  to  take,  without  any 
compensation,  the  property  of  loyal  men  who  were  bleeding 
on  the  field  of  battle  for  the  perpetuity  of  the  old  flag. 

In  addition  to  this  source  of  dissatisfaction,  the  majority  of 
my  regiment  were  raised  in  north-eastern  Kentucky,  where 
rebel  guerrillas  overran  their  homes  in  the  winter  of  '63,  while 


76  A  CHECKERED  LIFE. 

they  were  at  the  front.  Houses  were  burned  down,  corn-fields 
laid  waste,  fences  destroyed,  relatives  outraged  and  murdered, 
while  wives  and  children  were  driven  out  in  the  woods  and 
fields,  to  die  of  exposure  and  starvation.  These  cruelties  were 
communicated  by  letter,  day  after  day,  to  sons,  brothers  and 
husbands,  who  were  unable  to  succor  the  loved  ones  at  home ; 
and,  as  the  Government  did  not  protect  the  families  of  the 
men  who  were  fighting  its  battles,  the  natural  love  of  home 
prevailed,  and  under  the  pressure  of  self-preservation,  a  num- 
ber of  the  men  scattered  to  their  homes  in  the  mountains,  left 
some  money  with  their  families,  re-established  worldly  matters, 
and  then  returned  to  the  ranks.  If  there  ever  was  an  excuse 
for  desertion,  the  loyal  men  of  Kentucky — whose  houses  were 
destroyed  and  property  taken,  not  only  by  the  Government 
but  by  the  enemy — could  lay  claim  to  every  mitigating  cir- 
cumstance. 

After  remaining  more  than  a  month  at  Frankfort,  the  regi- 
ment went  to  Louisville  on  the  28th  of  January,  with  increased 
numbers,  ar.d  camped  on  the  Oaklands,  awaiting  orders  to 
reinforce  Gen.  Rosecrans  on  the  Cumberland.  Gen.  Gordon 
Granger  was  in  command  at  Louisville,  dispatching  all  avail- 
able troops  to  the  front.  While  waiting  transportation  by 
boat,  the  men  of  the  regiment  again  became  demoralized  at 
the  thought  of  leaving  the  state,  and  the  camp-scenes  were 
more  in  keeping  with  the  acts  of  a  mob  than  that  of  well  dis- 
ciplined troops.  Col.  Hurt  became  disgusted,  and  resigned, 
but  was  prevailed  upon  to  withdraw  his  resignation.  We  re- 
mained a  week  in  the  metropolitan  city  of  Kentucky. 


CHAFFER  X. 

LOUISVILLE    EXPERIENCES. 

Many  funny  and  curious  scenes  transpired  about  the  camp, 
and  in  the  homes  of  the  rushing  city.  I  became  acquainted 
with  a  very  beautiful  Southern  belle,  whose  family  was  of  the 
best  blood  in  the  state.  She  had  two  brothers  in  the  army : 
one  with  Morgan,  righting  for  the  "stars  and  bars,"  and  the 
other  with  Rosecrans,  fighting  for  the  "stars  and  stripes." 
The  father  was  old,  and  bowed  down  with  grief  at  the  terrible 
scenes  transpiring  around  him,  while  the  mother's  mild  man- 
ner sent  a  glow  of  love  and  peace  through  the  household. 

A  social  party  was  given  at  the  mansion  one  evening,  and 
I  was  invited  to  attend.  On  my  arrival,  I  found  a  large  num- 
ber of  well-dressed  guests,  gray  colors  predominating,  I  being 
the  only  blue-uniformed  individual  present.  Dancing,  song 
and  feasting  were  indulged  in  until  midnight,  when,  to  cap  the 
climax,  Miss  Ella  asked  the  privilege  of  singing  and  playing 
the  "Bonnie  Blue  Flag."  As  the  tune  had  been  filched  from 
Yankeeland,  and  as  I  had  heard  "Dixie,"  another  Yankee 
air,  played  in  the  heat  of  battle — and  more  particularly  as  I 
was  not  fighting  against  women  and  children — I  interposed  no 
objection. 

The  beautiful  young  lady  threw  all  her  soul  in  the  so-called 
rebel  air,  and  out  in  the  midnight  silence  it  sounded  as  if  the 
belles  of  Richmond  were  in  chorus  with  the  whole  Confed- 
eracy. Great  applause  greeted  the  performance,  but  the  cheers 
had  not  died  away  when  a  provost-marshal  with  a  squad  of 
soldiers  broke  m  upon  the  festivities,  and  arrested  the  whole 
party  for  treasonable  conduct.  Everybody  became  alarmed  at 

77 


78  A  CHECKERED  LIFE. 

the  predicament,  the  proprietor  of  the  house  seeing  nothing 
but  Camp  Chase  or  Fort  Lafayette,  with  their  ponderous  jaws 
ready  to  receive  him. 

In  this  emergency,  I  replied  to  the  arrest  and  taunts  of  the 
bluff  captain,  saying  that  I  alone  was  responsible  for  the  sing- 
ing of  the  treasonable  song,  having  requested  the  young  lady 
to  render  the  air  for  the  social  pleasure  of  the  guests.  He  re- 
plied that  if  that  was  the  case,  I  should  go  with  him  at  once 
to  headquarters,  where  my  conduct  would  be  reported ;  and 
as  I  took  the  responsibility  of  the  song,  I  should  suffer  what- 
ever penalty  might  be  inflicted  by  the  Government. 

I  bade  the  host  and  hostess  good  night,  leaving  them  to  their 
liberty  and  social  cheer,  thus  sacrificing  myself  for  the  good 
of  other  mortals.  When  I  reached  the  commanding  officer, 
who  had  authority  and  common  sense,  I  explained  that  it  was 
all  a  piece  of  fun  and  pleasantry,  and  a  magnanimous  thought 
on  my  part,  to  gratify  an  enthusiastic  girl  who  desired  to  sing 
a  few  notes  in  honor  of  the  Southern  cause.  The  Confederacy 
always  received  my  blows  on  the  field  of  battle,  but  in  the 
gloom  of  defeat  I  extended  my  hand  and  the  generous  words 
of  a  soldier  to  a  fallen  foe.  I  was  not  in  favor  of  a  parlor 
war,  only  striking  those  with  arms  in  their  hands. 

The  next  day  I  called  at  the  mansion  and  relieved  the  anx- 
iety of  the  household  by  informing  them  that  the  commanding 
officer  of  Louisville  had  released  me  from  arrest,  while  the 
superserviceable  officer  received  no  encomiums  for  his  great 
energy  and  intense  loyalty  in  breaking  into  a  private  house  to 
disturb  innocent  festivities. 

A  few  nights  after  this  occurrence,  I  stumbled  on  one  still 
more  ridiculous.  Capt.  Gill,  Lieut.  Mclntyre  and  myself  had 
been  at  the  Louisville  Theater,  to  see  Maggie  Mitchell  in  her 
charming  play  of  "Fanchon."  Before  returning  to  camp, 
after  the  close  of  the  performance,  I  proposed  that  we  go  to 
Walker's  restaurant  for  refreshments.  This  proposition  was 
readily  agreed  to,  and  without  delay  we  repaired  to  the  festive 
resort  and  ordered  a  fine  bird  supper.  The  small  rooms,  fitted 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE. 


79 


for  four  persons,  were  well  patronized  that  night,  and  the  thin 
sheeting  partitions  could  not  shut  out  the  voices  or  words  of 
the  respective  occupants.  During  the  supper,  a  friend  of  Mc- 
I  ityre  joined  him, — a  citizen  from  the  "blue-grass"  region — 
who  got  into  an  argument  with  "  Mac,"  on  the  proprieties  of 
the  war. 

Champagne  went  down,  and  loud  words  quickly  came  up, 
until  at  last  ]VIcIntyre  made  a  lunge  at  the  friend  of  his  youth, 
knocked  him  against  the  panels  of  the  small  room,  and  down 
with  a  crash  went  the  whole  side  on  the  elaborate  supper  of 
Major-General  Gordon  Granger  and  his  staff  officers.  Excite- 
ment ran  high,  and  Granger's  face  looked  like  a  thunder-cloud 
that  had  been  split  up  by  lightning.  He  knew  me,  but  did 
not  kno'.v  my  companions.  The  suppers  were  destroyed;  Mc- 
Intyre  and  the  citizen  were  finally  separated,  the  lights  turned 
out,  and  we  were  ordered  to  our  camps  under  arrest,  to  report 
at  the  Gait  House  the  next  morning  at  ten  o'clock. 

Granger  and  his  officers  were  very  jolly  that  night  before  we 
threw  down  the  side  of  the  stall  on  their  supper,  and  I  am  con- 
vinced that  our  superiors  were  as  much  influenced  by  fumes 
from  Bacchus  as  we  were. 

It  was  about  two  o'clock  when  we  got  into  the  street ;  and 
while  we  had  been  peremptorily  ordered  to  camp,  three  miles 
away,  and  in  a  keen,  frosty  night,  I  proposed  that  as  we  had 
to  report  to  Granger  at  ten  o'clock  in  the  morning,  we  go  to 
the  hotel,  take  a  good  rest  and  breakfast,  and  face  the  military 
music  like  men,  which  proposition  was  adopted. 

Promptly  at  the  appointed  hour  we  put  in  an  appearance  at 
the  Gait  House.  Granger  was  not  yet  out  of  bed.  We  told 
his  orderly  our  mission.,  and  asked  him  to  inform  the  General. 
While  waiting,  it  was  agreed  that  I  should  do  the  talking  and 
pleading,  and  that  "the  boys"  should  assent  to  every  excuse 
I  made  for  our  conduct  of  the  previous  night.  We  were  soon 
admitted,  and  found  Granger  sitting  up  in  bed  with  his  legs 
dangling  over  the  side.  We  saluted,  as  became  good  respect- 
ful officers,  and  he  said:  "Young  men,  you  were  drunk  last 


8o  A  CHECKERED  LJEE. 

night.  I  am  ashamed  and  astonished  to  see  officers  of  the 
army  conduct  themselves  in  such  a  disgraceful  manner." 

I  replied  that  we  never  drank,  and  before  we  left  home  we 
had  each  made  a  solemn  pledge  to  our  sweethearts  that  for  the 
period  of  three  years,  or  during  the  war,  we  would  not  taste. 
smell  or  handle  ardent  spirits. 

Granger  looked  astonished,  and  asked  Gill  and  Mclntyre 
if  my  statement  was  true.  They  held  up  their  hands  in  ear- 
nest asseveration,  and  testified  firmly  to  the  truth  of  what  I 
had  uttered.  The  General  arose  immediately  from  the  bed, 
proceeded  to  the  mantel-piece,  took  therefrom  a  half-filled 
bottle  of  Bourbon  whiskey  and  glasses,  and  said  :  "  Gentle- 
men, you  are  the  most  magnificent  liars  it  has  ever  been  my 
lot  to  behold.  Your  coolness  and  audacity  deserve  a  reward, 
and  I  shall  take  it  as  a  great  favor  if  you  will  condescend  to 
join  me  in  a  glass  of  old  Bourbon." 

I  replied  that  his  request  was  equal  to  an  order ;  and,  as  we 
had  sworn  to  obey  all  orders  of  our  superior  officers,  the  pledge 
we  gave  our  sweethearts  must  give  way  to  the  rules  of  war ; 
and  however  reluctant  we  might  be  to  violate  the  obligations 
of  love,  we  could  not,  with  self-respect,  decline  to  comply 
with  the  promptings  of  patriotism  and  duty. 

We  parted  with  mutual  respect  for  each  other.  I  believe 
that  the  General  who  takes  a  social  glass  with  his  staff  is  no 
worse  than  the  soldier  who  empties  a  canteen  with  his  comrade 
on  the  hot  and  dusty  march.  I  shall  never  forget  the  Pick- 
wickian look  and  quizzical  smile  of  Granger  on  that  occasion. 
He  was  certainly  a  generous  character,  and  had  the  philosophy 
and  common  sense  not  to  rebuke  too  severely  the  conduct  in 
another  which  characterized  himself. 

"  The  hand  and  heart  will  show  the  noble  mind ; 
A  lellow  feeling  makes  us  wondrous  kind." 

On  the  3d  of  February,  1863,  the  regiment  embarked  for 
Nashville,  on  the  steamer  Woodside,  leaving  Kentucky  very 
reluctantly.  Capt.  Gill  and  myself  remained  behind,  and 


A  CHECKERED  LI1-E.  81 

followed  by  rail  a  few  days  later,  to  the  City  of  Rocks.  From 
there  we  proceeded  in  search  of  the  regiment  down  the  Cum- 
berland River,  on  the  steamer  Hazel  Dell,  landing  at  Clarks- 
ville,  and  riding  through  the  enemy's  country  to  Bowling 
Green,  where  we  took  the  railroad  for  Nashville,  arriving  at 
the  regiment's  camp  on  the  Franklin  Pike,  near  the  suburbs 
of  the  city,  on  the  iyth  of  the  month. 

An  expedition  under  Gen.  Crook  was  projected  to  the  upper 
waters  of  the  Cumberland,  where  he  could  watch  the  move- 
ments of  Bragg,  and  protect  Kentucky  from  sudden  invasion. 
On  the  22d  day  of  February  my  regiment,  with  other  troops, 
moved  out  of  camp  and  embarked  on  steamers  ready  to  trans- 
port us  up  the  river.  We  went  on  the  steamers  Belfast  and 
Delaware,  several  boats  being  in  the  flotilla.  Winding  our 
way  slowly  among  the  bluffy  banks  of  the  mountain  river,  we 
arrived  at  Carthage,  some  fifty  miles  or  more  from  Nashville. 
The  regiment  disembarked  on  the  ayth,  and  pitched  tents  on 
a  fine  bluff  overlooking  the  river.  We  remained  about  a  month 
around  Carthage,  foraging,  skirmishing,  marching  and  recon- 
noitering  toward  the  camps  of  the  enemy.  Several  fights  oc- 
curred between  our  advanced  posts  and  the  raiding  troops  of 
the  Confederates,  and  many  prisoners  were  taken  on  both  sides, 
while  several  soldiers  were  killed  and  wounded. 

Col.  Grigsby  had  been  quietly  working  to  procure  the  trans- 
fer of  the  regiment  to  the  Department  of  Kentucky,  in  order 
that  he  might  put  forth  another  effort  to  recruit  its  broken 
ranks.  An  order  finally  came  from  Gen.  Crook,  directing  us 
to  report  to  Gen.  Gilmore,  at  Lexington,  Ky.  ;  and  on  the 
2ist  of  March  we  embarked  on  the  Fanny  Miller,  and  pro- 
ceeded down  the  river  with  light  hearts,  ariving  at  Nashville 
the  next  day,  where  we  made  preparations  to  transfer  the  men 
to  the  steamer  Sultana,  bound  for  Louisville. 

On  the  24th,  the  Sultana  got  under  way,  passing  Clarksville, 
Fort  Donelson,  and  out  into  the  beautiful  Ohio,  passed  Smith- 
land  and  Evansville,  arriving  in  Louisville  at  five  o'clock  on 
the  morning  of  the  2yth. 

6 


82  A  CHECKERED  LIFE. 

The  ill-fated  Sultana  was  afterwards  destroyed  by  an  explo- 
sion on  the  Mississippi  River,  while  carrying  two  thousand 
soldiers,  a  large  number  of  whom  were  burned  and  drowned 
by  the  fearful  catastrophe.  The  loss  of  life  was  the  greatest 
recorded  in  steamboating  annals. 

The  regiment  proceeded  at  once  to  Frankfort  and  Lexing- 
ton, reporting  to  Gen.  Gilmore,  who  ordered  us  to  Mt.  Ster- 
ling on  a  raid  after  the  enemy.  We  got  into  Mt.  Sterling  on 
Sunday,  the  29th,  but  Col. -duke,  the  Confederate  commander, 
had  scampered  away  towards  the  mountains.  We  followed  the 
daring  raider  as  far  as  Owingsville,  killing  and  wounding  a  few 
of  his  men,  and  taking  a  number  of  prisoners. 

When  the  regiment  marched  through  the  streets  of  Owings- 
ville and  stacked  arms  in  front  of  the  old  court-house,  the 
measure  of  my  ambition  was  full.  A  little  more  than  a  year 
before,  I  had  left  the  town  a  private  soldier,  and  now  returned 
to  the  haunts  and  scenes  of  my  boyhood  as  an  Adjutant.  And 
what  gave  poetic  zest  to  my  heart  and  soul,  was  the  fact  that 
the  beautiful  girl  I  loved  most  stood  at  her  father's  gate  as  the 
regiment  marched  by. 

A  detachment  of  the  command  pursued  Cluke  to  Licking 
River,  where  the  chase  was  given  up.  Loyal  citizens  enter- 
tained the  regiment  in  fine  style,  feasting  the  boys  in  blue 
Avith  all  the  good  things  at  command. 

What  a  medley  of  contradictions  war  produces  !  The  day 
before  our  arrival  in  Owingsville,  Cluke,  Stoner,  Ewing,  Ev- 
eret  and  their  men,  who  wore  the  gray,  were  entertained  with 
as  much  love  and  patriotism  as  the  most  gallant  defender  of 
the  old  flag.  It  certainly  was  a  cruel  war,  founded  in  slavery 
and  begun  in  the  heat  of  party  spirit.  While  fighting  against 
my  schoolmates  and  friends,  I  could  not  but  regret  the  deplo- 
rable situation  that  made  it  necessary  to  cast  aside  all  personal 
considerations  in  the  larger  element  of  National  preservation. 
The  greater  always  includes  the  less ;  and,  while  1  had  the 
utmost  respect  for  the  local  rights  of  the  states,  I  could  not 
quietly  stand  by  and  see  the  stars  and  stripes  torn  down  from 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE.  83 

the  battlements  of  Fort  Sumpter  without  lifting  my  arm  in  its 
defense. 

The  regiment  retraced  its  steps  to  Mt.  Sterling  through  a 
driving  snow-storm,  and  on  the  ist  of  April  camped  in  a  locust 
grove  adjacent  to  the  town.  Col.  Grigsby  was  in  command 
of  all  the  troops  in  the  place.  For  a  week,  drilling  and  scout- 
ing parties  made  things  lively  among  the  hills  of  Montgomery. 

I  visited  rnany  old  friends  that  I  knew  in  school-boy  days, 
and  although  some  of  them  sympathized  with  the  Southern 
cause,  they  betrayed  no  enmity  to  me,  but  opened  their  hearts 
and  homes  for  my  reception.  A  number  of  prisoners  were 
captured  and  brought  into  camp  during  our  rendezvous  at  Mt. 
Sterling.  I  remember  the  case  of  Capt.  Alf.  Bascom,  of  Bath 
county,  who  belonged  to  Cluke's  command,  and  had  been 
captured  by  Lieut.  Julius  Miller,  while  on  a  raid  on  Slate 
Creek.  Bascom  was  very  much  alarmed  at  his  prospect  of  be- 
ing sent  to  Camp  Chase,  and  were  it  not  for  my  intercession, 
combined  with  the  former  friendship  of  Col.  Hurt,  he  would 
certainly  have  gone.  Clarke  Bascom,  his  brother,  was  a  Union 
man,  and  to  show  our  regard  for  his  good  faith  in  sticking  to 
the  government  when  his  relatives  went  into  the  rebellion  we 
released  the  Confederate  captain  on  his  parole  of  honor. 

I  took  dinner  one  evening  at  the  house  of  Mrs.  Emily  Barnes, 
in  company  with  her  talented  daughter  Julia,  and  a  number 
of  her  loyal  sons  were  also  present.  Howard  Barnes  was  my 
favorite  among  all  the  boys  who  went  to  school  at  the  old 
Highland  Seminary.  He  was  generous  to  a  fault,  manly  in 
his  actions,  musical  and  witty,  and  had  the  rare  faculty  of 
making  and  keeping  friends.  "  Billy,"  another  brother,  was 
more  impulsive,  but  true  to  his  word,  and  brave  under  all  cir- 
cumstances. Mrs.  Barnes  had  been  my  friend  when  I  was  a 
poor  boy  hunting  for  education,  and  her  lovely  daughter  often 
taught  me  music.  Emily  Barnes  was  a  splendid  woman.  Her 
hand  and  heart  went  out  to  the  poor  and  needy,  and  when  the 
downcast  and  weary  were  turned  from  the  doors  of  the  opu- 
lent, they  could  always  rely  on  her  benevolence  and  support. 


84  A  CHECKERED  LIFE. 

The  grass  of  many  long  years  has  grown  upon  her  grave,  and 
the  flowers  of  spring  have  come  and  gone  with  the  changing 
seasons,  since  last  I  beheld  her  charitable  face ;  yet,  in  the 
choicest  nooks  of  memory  she  is  venerated  by  thousands  for 
her  noble  acts  performed  in  the  interests  of  humanity.  The 
motto  of  her  life  can  be  summed  up  in  the  following  beautiful 
stanza  from  the  Universal  Prayer  of  Pope : 

"  Teach  me  to  feel  another's  woe, 

To  hide  the  fault  I  see ; 
That  mercy  I  to  others  show, 
That  mercy  show  to  me." 

On  the  yth  of  April,  the  regiment  struck  tents  and  moved 
out  on  the  pike  towards  Winchester ;  thence  marched  to  Rich- 
mond, to  Crab  Orchard,  and  on  to  Mt.  Vernon,  where  the 
brigade  of  Gen.  Gilbert  was  encamped.  We  remained  here  a 
few  days,  and  then  moved  up  into  the  Wild  Cat  hills  as  an  out- 
post for  the  brigade,  which  continued  to  camp  at  Mt.  Vernon. 

A  number  of  raiding  parties  from  the  Cumberland  River 
dashed  about  London  and  Barboursville,  giving  us  a  great  deal 
of  trouble.  Capt.  Stough  with  a  command  of  mounted  men 
caught  up  with  some  of  these  daring  raiders  on  the  2jd  of 
April,  near  Williamsburg,  and  killed  and  captured  quite  a  num- 
ber. The  24th  was  ordered  to  his  support,  and  by  a  hurried 
march  we  dashed  over  the  rolling  Wild  Cat  hills  and  entered 
the  town  of  London  early  the  next  morning,  moving  out  on 
the  mountain  road  leading  to  Williamsburg.  We  chased  the 
enemy  across  the  Cumberland  River  to  Seven  Mills,  where 
they  were  lost  and  scattered  in  the  mountains.  The  whole 
command  returned  to  London,  where  we  camped  and  scouted 
for  about  two  weeks. 

From  this  place  we  were  ordered  to  fall  back  on  the  impreg- 
nable hills  of  Wild  Cat,  overlooking  the  brawling  waters  of 
Rockcastle  River.  From  the  1 5th  of  May  to  the  i5th  of  July, 
1863,  the  regiment  encamped  on  the  Very  topmost  height  of 
the  bold  ridge  where,  in  the  fall  of  1861,  Col.  Garred  made 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE.  85 

such  a  gallant  stand  against  the  enemy.  Raiding  and  foraging 
parties  were  continually  sent  out  by  Col.  Grigsby,  who  reported 
the  movements  of  the  Confederate  forces  to  Gen.  Gilbert,  at 
Mt.  Vernon. 

About  this  time,  I  was  detailed  to  proceed  to  Somerset  and 
report  for  duty  on  a  court-martial  convened  for  the  purpose  of 
trying  Lieut.  Lee,  of  the  24th,  for  drunkenness,  and  also  such 
other  officers  as  might  come  before  the  court.  I  finished  my 
duty  in  a  few  days,  and  returned  to  Mt.  Vernon. 

The  regiment  broke  up  camp  from  the  Wild  Cat  Pass  on  the 
5th  of  July,  and  marched  to  Mt.  Vernon,  joining  the  brigade, 
which  proceeded  to  Crab  Orchard,  Stanford,  Camp  Nelson, 
Camp  Dick  Robinson,  and  thence  to  Danville,  where  General 
Burnside  was  massing  an  army  of  ten  thousand  men  to  pene- 
trate into  East  Tennessee,  capture  the  railroad  communication 
of  the  enemy,  and  thus  wrench  the  backbone  of  the  crumbling 
rebellion. 

A  more  perfect  organization  of  the  various  regiments  took 
place  at  Danville.  Drilling  and  dress-parade  came  off  every 
day,  and  a  large  number  of  ladies  and  gentlemen  visited  the 
parade-grounds  every  evening  and  witnessed  the  "  pomp  and 
circumstance  of  glorious  war."  I  received  a  leave  of  absence 
for  five  days,  and  went  to  Frankfort  to  engage  Capt.  Denny 
Healy  as  the  leader  of  our  regimental  band.  A  number  of  men 
were  employed  and  mustered  in  for  the  band,  and  some  fine 
silver  instruments  were  bought  in  New  York  by  the  officers  of 
the  regiment.  Capt.  Healy,  the  leader,  was  a  young  Irish- 
man, who  devoted  his  life  and  talents  to  music.  He  could 
compose  and  play  almost  any  kind  of  music,  and  was  what 
might  be  called  a  musical  prodigy.  He  remained  in  the  regi- 
ment nearly  two  years,  and  did  a  great  deal  to  inspire  its  dis- 
cipline and  minister  to  the  pleasure  of  the  command.  After 
the  war  he  settled  in  Louisville,  organized  a  city  band,  and 
was  very  successful  in  his  chosen  profession. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

KNOXV1LLE    EXPEDITION. 

Before  leaving  for  the  East  Tennessee  expedition,  Col.  L.  B. 
Grigsby  resigned  his  commission,  (July  i6th,  1863,)  on  account 
of  business  and  bad  health.  Col.  J.  S.  Hurt  then  took  com- 
mand of  the  regiment,  remaining  to  the  close  of  the  war. 

On  the  i  yth  of  August,  the  regiment  moved  to  Stanford 
and  Crab  Orchard,  and  thence  to  Somerset,  where  our  brigade 
(the  2d,  commanded  by  Gen.  Daniel  Cameron,  in  Haskell's 
Division,)  crossed  the  Cumberland  River  on  the  23d.  We 
were  now  fairly  pointed  for  East  Tennessee,  with  hot,  dusty 
days,  rugged  mountain  roads  and  brawling  streams  before  us. 
The  passage  of  the  Cumberland,  at  Smith's  ferry,  was  a  very 
difficult  undertaking  by  the  assembled  army  of  Gen.  Burnside. 
On  the  south  side  of  the  rapid  stream  we  were  compelled  to 
haul  up  the  wagons  and  artillery  by  ropes  grasped  in  the  hands 
of  a  thousand  men. 

When  all  was  ready,  we  began  a  weary  march  through  an 
unknown  country  that  had  been  occupied  by  the  enemy  since 
the  beginning  of  hostilities.  A  trail  of  twelve  days  in  the 
mountains  lay  before  us  ere  we  could  tap  the  railroad  near 
Knoxville,  and  sever  Confederate  communication  from  Rich- 
mond to  the  south-west.  Our  wagon  trains  did  not  get  up  on 
the  night  of  the  23d  until  twelve  o'clock,  and  the  soldiers  had 
to  camp  out  on  the  bare,  rocky  earth,  with  nothing  to  cover 
them  save  overhanging  branches.  The  air  was  chilly,  and  the 
starlight  shone  down  on  the  sleeping  camp  with  a  cold  gleam. 
Bright  and  early  in  the  morning  twilight  we  proceeded  on  the 

86 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE.  87 

rough  march  to  Jacksburg,  traveling  over  narrow,  rocky  roads 
that  almost  defied  the  passage  of  wagons  and  mules.  We  be- 
gan to  ascend  the  spurs  of  the  Cumberland  Mountains,  wind- 
ing our  way  over  a  back-bone  ridge,  until  we  crossed  the  rapid 
waters  of  New  River.  In  many  instances,  over  the  mountain 
plateau,  we  passed  fifteen  and  twenty  miles  without  a  sign  of 
human,  habitation.  One  vast  wilderness  stretched  away  to  the 
horizon,  only  broken  by  lowering  clouds  that  settled  on  the 
bosom  of  that  upland  sea  of  emerald  beauty. 

On  the  29th  and  3oth  of  August  we  passed  over  the  topmost 
peaks  of  the  mountains,  and  camped  some  ten  miles  from  the 
town  of  Montgomery,  situated  near  the  southern  base  of  the 
mountain  range.  The  sight  from  the  tops  of  the  Cumberland 
Mountains  was  grand  and  inspiring.  Bold,  bare  rocks  shot 
out  against  the  sky  like  huge  ships  upon  a  raging  sea.  Deep, 
dark  chasms  yawned  in  majestic  horror  upon  the  eye  of  the 
traveler,  and  the  thundering  roar  of  some  far-off  falls  broke 
upon  the  ear  like  the  rush  of  a  mighty  wind  sweeping  over  a 
primeval  forest.  The  Cumberland  looked  magnificent. 

"  Its  uplands  sloping  decked  the  mountain  side, 
Woods  over  woods,  in  gay  theatric  pride." 

But  to  the  romantic  soul  filled  with  unutterable  admiration, 
the  gloaming,  the  starlight  and  the  moonlight  must  intermin- 
gle to  bring  out  in  bold  relief  the  beauty  and  grandeur  of 
mountain  scenery.  One  moonlight  night  I  stood  upon  one 
of  the  wildest  and  highest  peaks  of  the  Cumberland,  the  sigh- 
ing pines  singing  to  the  stars,  the  crickets  chirping  at  my  feet, 
and  the  sound  of  dashing  cascades  carried  on  the  wings  of  the 
night,  while  the  "bright  and  burning  blazonry  of  God"  glit- 
tered in  their  eternal  depths,  and  lit  up  the  green  mountain 
tops  with  a  glow  of  celestial  light. 

At  such  a  moment  the  soul  communes  with  its  Creator;  and 
while  we  may,  perhaps,  doubt  the  reason  of  prayers,  creeds 
and  churches,  the  most  unreasoning  man  cannot  deny  the  ex- 
istence of  a  God,  in  the  vast  and  mysterious  realm  spread  out 


88  A  CHECKERED  LIFE. 

before  him  in  air,  water,  earth  and  sky  !  Those  majestic 
mountain  tops  were  not  called  into  being  and  clothed  with  a 
rich  eternal  verdure  by  chance.  Those  crystal  springs  and 
flowing  rivers  did  not  rise  and  meander  to  the  sea  without  some 
grand  design.  The  blue  heavens  above  were  not  spread  out 
in  illimitable  magnificence,  and  dotted  all  over  with  shining 
worlds,  without  a  plan.  No  !  God  lives  in  every  breeze  that 
wafts  over  the  earth;  shines  in  every  star  that  glitters  in  the 
blue  vault  of  heaven  ;  sings  with  every  warbler  that  flutters  in 
the  forest ;  breathes  in  every  fragrant  flower ;  and  when  the 
mortals  of  this  transient  life  have  lived  out  their  little  span, 
they  mingle  again,  for  some  mysterious  end,  with  the  compo- 
nent parts  of  earth,  and  sink  back  into  some  grand  omnipo- 
tence, great  and  eternal  ! 


* 

* 


The  troops  passed  through  Montgomery  on  the  last  day  of 
August,  to  the  undulating  plains  of  East  Tennessee,  the 
" promised  land"  of  loyalty.  Montgomery  at  that  time 
might  well  be  compared  to  the  Deserted  Village  of  Goldsmith. 
Its  inhabitants  lived  in  rural  comfort  before  the  rebellion,  sur- 
rounded by  smiling  fields  and  productive  vineyards,  that  deck- 
ed the  upland  sunny  slopes.  These  mountain  people  werc 
loyal  to  the  flag,  and  when  the  tocsin  of  war  sounded,  they 
fled  to  the  North  as  refugees,  in  search  of  peace  and  protection 
against  the  plantation  "chivalry,"  who  made  it  too  hot  for 
Union  men  to  live  in  the  atmosphere  of  slavery  and  Confed- 
erate conscription. 

In  going  through  the  village,  I  did  not  see  a  single  living 
mortal ;  but  the  torn  roofs,  broken  fences,  rotten  doors,  creak- 
ing sign-boards,  straggling  hedges,  tall  weeds,  blowing  this- 
tles, hanging  cobwebs,  and  "swallows  twittering  from  their 
straw-built  shed,"  betokened  decay,  desolation  and  death. 

"  Sweet,  smiling  village,  loveliest  of  the  lawn, 
Thy  sports  are  fled,  and  all  thy  charms  withdrawn; 
Amidst  thy  bowers  the  tyrant's  hand  is  seen, 
And  desolation  saddens  all  thy  green. 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE.  89 

Sunk  are  thy  bowers  in  shapeless  ruin  all, 
And  the  long  grass  o'ertops  the  mouldering  wall; 
And  trembling,  shrinking  from  the  spoiler's  hand, 
Far,  far  away  thy  children  leave  the  land." 

I  left  Montgomery,  and  looked  back  with  a  sigh  upon  the 
straggling  village,  as  the  setting  sun  shone  on  the  dilapidated 
homes  of  those  loyal  hearts  who  forfeited  all  but  truth  and 
honor  in  their  devotion  to  the  old  flag. 

For  four  days  the  army  toiled  over  rough  roads  and  rapid 
streams,  towards  Kingston  and  Knoxville.  Reports  came  in 
that  the  enemy  had  evacuated  these  places,  and  withdrawn 
into  Georgia  and  Virginia.  About  four  o'clock  on  the  after- 
noon of  the  4th  of  September,  my  regiment  struck  the  East 
Tennessee  Railroad  at  Lenoir,  a  small  station  south  of  Knox- 
ville. The  Holston  and  Little  Tennessee  Rivers  form  the 
main  arm  of  the  Tennessee,  which  wanders  away  for  more 
than  five  hundred  miles  in  its  course  to  the  sea.  A  thrill  of 
satisfaction  and  triumph  pervaded  the  ranks  of  the  army  when 
the  shrill  blast  of  the  iron  horse  came  echoing  down  the  road 
from  Knoxville.  We  felt  that  our  long,  weary  march  through 
the  mountains  had  not  been  in  vain,  and  that  the  "stars  and 
stripes,"  though  often  torn  down  and  insulted,  would  yet  wave 
in  glory  and  peace  over  a  united  land. 

The  possession  of  Tennessee  by  the  Union  army  compelled 
the  Confederate  commanders  to  shift  their  base  of  operations 
farther  south,  and  thus  shorten  the  space  that  intervened  be- 
tween them  and  the  Atlantic  Ocean.  I  could  see,  even  at  that 
time,  that  fate  and  fortune  frowned  upon  the  Confederacy, 
and  while  many  battles  remained  to  be  fought,  every  Union 
soldier  was  confident  of  ultimate  success. 

Lingering  at  Lenoir  for  a  couple  of  days  to  rest,  the  regi- 
ment took  up  its  line  of  march  for  Concord,  a  village  fifteen 
miles  south  of  Knoxville,  where  we  pitched  tents  in  a  pleasant 
grove,  and  enjoyed  the  ease  of  camp  life  for  a  week,  making 
friends  of  the  loyal  people,  who  flocked  in  from  the  surround- 
ing country  to  behold  their  Union  deliverers. 


9o  A  CHECKERED  LIFE. 

Gen.  Burnside  projected  an  expedition  towards  the  Virginia 
line,  in  search  of  the  enemy,  who  fled  at  his  approach.  March- 
ing orders  were  received,  and  on  the  i5th  of  September,  for 
the  first  time,  we  passed  through  Knoxville,  the  capital  city 
of  East  Tennessee,  the  home  of  Parson  Brownlow  and  Horace 
Maynard,  both  of  whom  have  since  mingled  their  loyal  dust 
with  that  of  the  state  they  saved  to  the  Union. 

The  regiment  marched  through  the  town  with  banners  fly- 
ing, drums  beating,  horns  blowing,  and  hearts  throbbing  to 
the  music  of  freedom.  We  reached  Strawberry  Plains  in  due 
time,  and  camped  at  Panther  Springs ;  from  there  proceeded 
to  Morristown,  on  the  railroad,  where  Gen.  Burnside  came  up 
and  made  a  cheering  speech  to  the  citizens,  who  assembled  at 
the  depot  to  hear  his  patriotic  words.  The  command  moved 
on  to  Greenville,  the  home  of  Vice  President  Andrew  Johnson. 
This  beautiful  village  is  situated  amid  a  circle  of  rolling  hills, 
the  huge  forms  of  the  Smoky  Mountains  looming  up  in  the 
distance,  separating  Tennessee  from  North  Carolina. 

Over  these  rugged  mountains  a  few  years  before,  crossing 
the  French  Broad  and  the  rapid  Holston,  wandered  a  poor, 
penniless  boy  in  search  of  work  and  fortune.  He  met  kind 
friends  in  the  mountain  town  of  Greenville,  v/ho  cared  for  his 
immediate  wants,  and  secured  for  him  a  place  on  the  bench 
of  a  tailor-shop,  where  he  could  master  the  trade  and  support 
himself  by  honest  labor.  The  boy  was  very  apt,  and  soon  in- 
gratiated himself  into  the  affections  of  all  who  knew  him.  He 
had  never  gone  to  school,  and  felt  the  want  of  education.  A 
kind  and  loving  friend,  who  afterwards  became  his  wife,  un- 
dertook the  task  of  instructing  the  young  tradesman  in  the 
rudiments  of  education.  His  advance  in  knowledge  was  rapid, 
for  God  had  stamped  the  rustic  mountaineer  with  an  extraor- 
dinary brain,  which  was  backed  by  indomitable  pluck  and 
never-failing  energy.  He  had  the  ambition  of  Alexander  and 
tenacity  of  General  Jackson.  No  clouds  or  storms  could  ob- 
scure the  sunbeams  of  his  heart,  or  twist  him  from  a  purpose 
he  had  once  formed.  The  people  trusted  him,  and  believed 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE.  9i 

in  his  manly  honesty.  From  the  lap-board  and  iron  of  the 
tailor,  he  rose 'to  the  position  of  Alderman,  Member  of  the 
Legislature,  Governor,  Congressman,  Senator,  Vice  President, 
and  finally,  through  the  horrible  death  of  our  noble  and  be- 
loved LINCOLN,  put  on  the  Presidential  robes  and  became  the 
Chief  Magistrate  of  the  Republic. 

I  went  into  the  small  brick  tailor  shop  where  "Andy  John- 
son' '  once  made  trowsers  for  the  people  of  Greenville ;  and 
I  thought  deeply  on  the  startling  changes  of  this  mysterious 
life.  We  rise  and  fall  like  bubbles  on  a  stormy  sea.  The  last 
become  first,  and  the  first  become  last. 


* 
* 


The  enemy  was  reported  in  force  at  Center  Station,  near  the 
Wataga  River,  and  early  Sunday  morning  our  command  moved 
off  for  Jonesboro  and  Johnson  Station.  Some  slight  skirmish- 
ing occurred,  three  of  our  men  being  killed  and  wounded  by 
the  cavalry  of  the  enemy  that  lay  in  ambush  near  the  road. 
Near  the  banks  of  the  Wataga  the  enemy  had  erected  a  fort. 
Gen.  Burnside  came  to  the  front  in  person,  and  a  reconnoiter- 
ing  party  was  thrown  out,  when  considerable  firing  occurred. 
A  flag  of  truce  was  sent  in  by  the  commanding  General  for 
the  capitulation  of  the  place,  and  as  there  was  no  response  to 
it,  my  regiment  was  ordered  to  charge  the  redoubt.  We  went 
towards  the  ridge  with  a  yell ;  but,  to  our  chagrin,  the  enemy 
had  fled,  leaving  nothing  but  two  dismantled  cannon.  We 
followed  up  the  retreating  force  towards  Bristol,  on  the  Vir- 
ginia line,  but  shortly  began  a  retrograde  movement  towards 
Knoxville,  abandoning  all  the  towns  and  posts  we  had  previ- 
ously occupied. 

It  was  said  that  the  Confederate  General  Crittenden,  of 
Kentucky,  and  the  gallant  Cerro  Gordo  Williams  were  in 
command  of  the  troops  that  fled  towards  Virginia;  but,  be 
this  as  it  may,  our  expedition  proved  fruitless,  and  we  finally 
returned,  to  be  pent  up  in  Knoxville,  besieged  by  Gen.  Long- 
street. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

THE    SIEGE    OF    KNOXVILLE. 

On  Sunday,  the  27th  of  September,  the  24th  encamped  on 
our  old  ground  at  Concord,  one  of  the  outposts  of  Knoxville. 
We  remained  at  this  delightful  post  until  the  3oth  of  October, 
when  we  were  ordered  to  Knoxville,  and  encamped  on  the 
south  side  of  Holston  River,  on  a  circle  of  quite  abrupt  hills, 
which  we  proceeded  to  fortify.  The  right  of  my  regiment  lay 
on  the  bluff  hills  of  the  Marysville  road.  The  prospect  seemed 
to  be  that  we  might  have  to  remain  all  winter  among  these 
hills;  and  with  this  end  in  view,  orders  were  given  to  erect 
snug  log  houses  in  company  rows,  leaving  sufficient  space  be- 
tween each  cabin  and  company  for  sanitary  purposes  and  com- 
pany formations. 

When  the  cabins  were  completed,  the  ten  rows  with  their 
uniform  construction  had  all  the  appearance  of  regular  bar- 
racks. The  field  officers  had  hospital  tents  erected  on  the 
apex  of  the  hill,  commanding  a  view  of  all  that  transpired  in 
camp,  and  at  the  same  time  securing  a  fine  sight  of  the  valley 
looking  south. 

I  was  detailed  by  Gen.  Hascall,  the  Division  Commander, 
in  conjunction  with  Capts.  Kennedy  and  Runkle,  of  the  65th 
Illinois,  to  meet  at  headquarters  and  proceed  as  a  "  board  of 
survey,"  to  condemn  the  various  transportation  material  and 
quartermaster  stores  submitted  to  us  by  Capt.  T.  W.  Fry.  We 
finished  our  labors  in  a  few  days,  condemning  property  to  the 
amount  of  over  a  million  dollars.  I  wrote  the  report,  which 
we  all  signed,  after  which  we  returned  to  our  respective  regi- 
ments. 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE.  93 

Fortifications  were  being  rapidly  thrown  up  on  each  side  of 
the  Holston  River,  and  Fort  Sanders,  a  strong  field-work  on 
the  north  side,  was  looming  up  into  impregnable  proportions. 
Longstreet  was  reported  at  Loudon,  making  his  way  towards 
the  Tennessee,  at  Kingston,  with  an  army  of  twenty-five  thou- 
sand men  devoted  to  the  defeat  or  capture  of  Burnside's  sixteen 
thousand  isolated  soldiers.  The  outposts  of  Burnside  were 
soon  driven  inside  the  earthworks  that  had  hastily  been  thrown 
up  around  Knoxville.  Longstreet  surrounded  the  town  on  the 
1 7th  of  November,  with  a  cordon  of  confident  warriors  who 
had  often  known  success  on  many  hard-fought  fields  on  the 
Potomac. 

Instead  of  stopping  to  skirmish  and  throw  buncomb  shells 
after  the  boys  in  blue,  and  hesitating  at  a  large  brick  house  on 
the  hill-top  to  the  south-west  of  the  city,  the  Confederate 
commander  should  have  formed  his  advancing  columns  into  the 
shape  of  a  wedge  and  hurled  the  mass,  at  all  hazard,  against 
the  wavering  army  that  occupied  the  newly  made  breastworks. 
Had  he  done  this,  the  entire  army  of  Burnside  would  have 
been  dispersed,  captured,  or  killed ;  and  the  loyal  city  could 
have  been  left  a  mass  of  smouldering  ruins  and  ashes. 

But  Long^reet  let  the  opportune  moment  pass,  and  every 
hour  afterward  his  chances  for  success  became  less,  while  the 
besieged  troops  became  stronger  and  more  confident  to  resist 
until  succor  came  from  Grant  and  Sherman,  whose  daring  sol- 
diers had  recently  defeated  and  routed  the  veterans  of  Bragg 
on  the  bold  heights  of  Missionary  Ridge  and  above  the  clouds 
at  Lookout  Mountain. 

A  succession  of  daily  skirmishes  took  place  while  the  enemy 
worked  up  to  our  breastworks,  by  rifle-pits,  parallels  and  bat- 
teries, coming  at  last  within  a  hundred  yards  of  our  strongest 
redoubts.  On  the  south  side  of  the  river  Generals  Law  and 
Robertson  had  posted  their  brigades,  along  a  bold  ridge,  their 
left  resting  on  a  rocky  bluff  abutting  on  the  river,  while  the 
right  extended  towards  the  Marysville  road,  where  Wheeler's 
cavalry  had  driven  in  our  mounted  men.  General  Hascall's 


94  A  CHECKERED  LIFE. 

division  confronted  the  Confederates,  our  right  resting  on  a 
parallel  ridge.  The  brigade  of  Gen.  Daniel  Cameron  occu- 
pied the  right  of  the  division,  and  the  24th  Kentucky  stood 
behind  rifle-pits  in  the  woods  on  the  extreme  right  of  the 
brigade,  having  the  place  of  danger  and  honor. 

The  Confederate  lines  were  being  tightened  from  day  to 
day  around  Knoxville,  like  a  huge  boa-constrictor  about  its 
prey.  On  the  24th  of  November,  the  enemy  kept  up  a  sharp 
fire  on  our  advanced  line.  Sidney  Gobbart,  of  Company  "A," 
was  killed  by  a  sharp-shooter.  The  regiment  remained  in  the 
trenches  all  day,  and  made  occasional  sorties.  Capts.  Barber 
and  Hall,  with  their  respective  companies,  advanced  on  the 
skirmish-line  of  the  enemy,  driving  it  back  on  the  main  col- 
umn, occupying  the  ridge  a  thousand  yards  across  a  ravine  to 
our  front.  These  companies  were  in  turn  forced  to  retreat  to 
their  original  position  by  the  superior  force  of  the  enemy. 
A  number  of  advanced  sharpshooters  kept  up  a  galling  fire 
during  the  day,  and  it  was  worth  a  man's  life  to  expose  his 
body.  Several  of  our  men  had  been  wounded  by  a  gray- 
headed  Georgian  who  had  burrowed  himself  at  the  roots  of  an 
old  tree,  and  I  was  anxious  to  get  a  shot  at  him.  To  this  end 
I  crawled  out  to  our  front  vidette,  who  had  been  exchanging 
fruitless  shots  with  the  Confederate.  I  took  a  Springfield  rifle 
from  the  soldier,  and  laid  my  plans  to  get  a  good  shot  at  the 
defiant  game  who  had  killed  and  wounded  our  men  without 
exposing  himself.  I  could  see  the  spot  from  whence  came  the 
death-dealing  missiles ;  and  crawling  up  to  the  point  of  a  jut- 
ting rock,  I  took- off  my  cap,  placed  it  on  a  stick,  and  slowly 
moved  it  into  an  exposed  position,  when,  quick  as  a  flash,  a 
bullet  went  through  it,  and  I  let  it  fall  to  the  earth  as  if  the 
head  of  a  soldier  went  down  to  death.  The  Confederate,  be- 
lievi^s  that  he  had  killed  the  man  in  his  immediate  front,  did 
not  exercise  his  usual  caution  in  reloading  his  gun,  but  exposed 
two-thirds  of  his  shoulder  and  breast  in  the  operation.  I  took 
a  dead  aim  from  the  rock  where  I  lay,  and  pulled  the  trigger. 
A  flash — a  groan — a  lurch,  throwing  up  the  hands — and  one 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE.  95 

of  our  most  dangerous  foes  had  passed  over  the  River  of  Time. 
Our  main  line  was  advanced  during  the  day,  and  as  a  matter 
of  curiosity  I  went  to  the  roots  of  the  gnarled  oak  and  found 
the  sharpshooter  with  a  bullet  through  his  right  breast,  calm 
and  peaceful  in  the  sleep  of  death.  I  had  some  of  my  men 
bury  the  old  warrior  at  the  foot  of  the  oak,  which  served  for 
a  monument.  He  had  lived  his  allotted  span,  and  I  have  no 
doubt  that  his  .last  breath  was  offered  up  on  what  he  deemed 
the  altar  of  patriotism. 

On  Wednesday,  Nov.  25th,  1863,  we  noticed  a  great  com- 
motion among  the  Confederate  troops  occupying  the  heights. 
Early  in  the  morning  the  artillery  opened  fire  on  our  earth- 
works in  the  woods,  shells  bursting  over  our  heads  in  rapid 
succession,  smashing  tree-tops  that  fell  into  our  wavering  ranks, 
while  solid  shot  shrieked  over  the  ridge,  tearing  up  trees  and 
earth  as  if  a  cyclone  had  started  on  its  mission  of  death.  We 
knew  the  terrible  artillery  fire  was  the  precursor  of  a  charge 
by  the  enemy,  and  while  our  guns  feebly  replied,  we  kept  a 
keen  watch  across  an  old  field  that  lay  between  us  and  the  foe. 

Suddenly  there  emerged  from  the  opposite  ridge  a  gray  line 
of  battle,  two  columns  deep,  with  flags  flying,  bayonets  glis- 
tening, and  coming  right  across  the  field  with  that  confidence 
born  of  assured  success,  while  the  artillery  from  the  heights 
poured  a  stream  of  shot  and  shell  into  our  ranks. 

We  were  ordered  to  reserve  our  fire  until  the  enemy  showed 
the  whites  of  their  eyes,  and  then  to  blaze  away  and  charge 
down  the  hill  upon  the  ranks  of  the  advancing  troops.  When 
within  fifty  yards  of  our  earthworks,  coming  in  gallant  style, 
a  death-dealing  volley  was  given  the  enemy,  as  a  morning  sa- 
lute, which  caused  them  to  stagger  about  like  drunken  men. 
Yet  still  they  came  ;  and  when  within  a  few  feet  of  an  old 
worm  fence  on  the  margin  of  our  woods,  we  dealt  them  an- 
other fire,  and  at  the  same  time  Gen.  Cameron,  riding  on  his 
excited  steed,  ordered  a  charge  along  the  whole  line.  There 
was  some  hesitancy  in  obeying  the  order  on  the  left  of  our 
line,  and  a  seeming  unwillingness  to  take  the  open  field,  thereby 


96  A  CHECKERED  LIFE. 

exposing  the  whole  command  to  the  murderous  artillery  that 
poured  their  missiles  down  upon  us  with  remarkably  sure  aim. 
To  start  the  charge,  I  ordered  some  of  the  men  to  throw  down 
part  of  the  fence  in  our  right  front,  and  putting  spurs  to  my 
horse,  jumped  the  barrier  at  a  bound,  calling  upon  the  men  to 
dash  forward  to  the  charge,  and  meet  the  enemy  in  the  open 
field. 

All  was  now  in  motion,  and  with  fixed  bayonets  the  men 
rushed  on  to  the  foe,  who  broke  and  fled  down  the  hill  faster 
than  they  came  up.  Col.  Hurt  led  the  left  wing  of  the  regi- 
ment, which  joined  on  the  65th  Illinois,  with  the  io3d  Ohio 
supporting  our  advancing  column.  I  was  put  in  charge  of  the 
right  wing  of  the  regiment,  abutting  on  the  rugged  rocks  of 
the  Holston  River.  In  a  narrow  gorge,  our  men  endeavored 
to  scale  the  heights  and  turn  the  left  of  the  enemy  ;  but  they 
perceived  the  movement,  and  depressed  their  cannon  on  our 
struggling  ranks,  pouring  into  us  a  shower  of  shot  and  shell. 
In  one  spot  the  regiment  got  into  a  tangle  among  the  rocks, 
and  wavered  backward  and  forward  in  the  effort,  to  advance 
and  also  at  the  same  time  escape  the  fury  of  the  fire  from  the 
heights.  Our  color-bearer,  James  Jackson,  was  shot  down 
and  dropped  the  flag,  which  was  taken  up  by  another  soldier, 
who  soon  met  the  same  fate.  For  a  time  it  looked  as  if  we 
would  be  compelled  to  retreat ;  but  just  as  everything  seemed 
giving  away,  Col.  Hurt  rushed  up  and  grasped  the  prostrate 
flag,  when  our  broken  ranks  rallied  to  his  support  and  estab- 
lished a  line  so  close  under  the  enemy's  guns  that  they  could 
not  depress  them  enough  to  make  fatal  shots,  the  shells  and 
balls  shrieking  over  our  heads  as  if  a  myriad  of  demons  were 
treating  us  to  an  infernal  serenade. 

Gens.  Shackleford  and  Woolford,  with  their  mounted  corps, 
came  to  our  aid  in  this  trying  ordeal,  Col.  Charles  D.  Penny- 
backer,  of  the  27th  Kentucky,  who  commanded  a  brigade  in 
Woolford's  division,  bringing  his  gallant  Kentuckians  to  the 
front  and  strengthening  our  broken  lines.  The  fight  went  on 
with  alternate  success  and  defeat  during  the  day,  and  even  the 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE.  97 

artillery  of  heaven  joined  in  the  roar  below.  Clouds,  rain, 
thunder  and  lightning  accompanied  the  roaring  fray.  The 
evening  sun  at  last  shot  forth  its  parting  beams,  piercing  the 
dense  woods  with  arrows  of  golden  light.  A  final  charge  was 
ordered.  With  five  companies  of  the  24th  Kentucky,  I  began 
to  climb  the  heights,  and  touching,  as  I  thought,  the  column 
on  my  left,  we  made  our  way  through  underbrush  and  dark 
timber  to  the  cannon  that  had  been  firing  on  us  during  the 
day.  All  was  seemingly  still  \  the  guns  were  there,  but  the 
soldiers  had  fled  down  the  hill  towards  their  pontoon  bridge 
that  connected  the  north  side  of  the  Holston  with  the  main 
column  of  Longstreet.  I  went  to  my  left,  and  found,  instead 
of  support  by  the  brigade,  nothing  but  an  interminable  forest. 
The  whole  command,  it  seems,  had  fallen  back  to  our  original 
base  in  the  woods,  and  left  me  with  the  five  companies  isolated 
but  victorious  on  the  enemy's  ground.  I  knew  it  was  useless 
for  me  to  attempt  to  hold  the  captured  position  without  sup- 
port, and  as  I  saw  through  the  timbers  a  line  of  soldiers  ad- 
vancing to  reoccupy  the  ground  they  had  so  suddenly  vacated, 
I  determined  that  in  this  particular  instance  discretion  was  the 
better  part  of  valor,  and  withdrew  my  men  down  the  hill  and 
through  a  large  open  field,  back  to  the  works  we  had  occupied 
in  the  morning.  It  was  reported  to  Gen.  Burnside,  at  Knox- 
ville,  that  I  had  been  captured  with  all  my  men ;  and  many 
of  my  own  regiment,  including  Col.  Hurt,  thought  I  had  been 
taken  in  as  fresh  food  for  Andersonville  and  Libby  prison. 

I  believe  it  was  acknowledged  by  all  that  if  the  brigade  and 
division  had  been  actuated  by  my  enthusiasm,  the  Union  forces 
on  the  south  side  of  the  Holston  would  have  camped  on  the 
ground  of  the  enemy  that  bleak  November  night,  and  the  two 
Confederate  brigades  would  have  been  compelled  to  recross 
the  river. 

It  is  a  ludicrous  thing  to  behold  brave  soldiers  fighting  each 
other  and  each  moment  increasing  the  distance  between  battle- 
lines — each  party  fearing  the  other,  and  both  retreating  when 
no  one  pursues.  This  may  be  on  the  principle  that 

7 


98  A  CHECKERED  LII<E. 

"  He  who  fights  and  runs  away 
May  live  to  fight  another  day ; 
But  he  who  in  the  battle  's  slain 
Will  never  live  to  fight  again." 

From  the  25th  to  Sunday,  the  29th,  my  regiment  was  con- 
stantly engaged  in  skirmishing  with  the  enemy.  It  seems  that 
Gen.  Longstreet  determined  to  make  one  desperate  effort  to 
break  our  lines  and  capture  Fort  Sanders  before  Gen.  Grant 
could  send  troops  to  our  relief  from  his  successful  army  at 
Chattanooga.  An  assaulting  column  of  two  thousand  veteran 
soldiers,  commanded  by  Gen.  McLaws,  was  selected  to  dash 
against  Fort  Sanders  early  Sunday  morning,  while  the  balance 
of  Longstreet's  command  were  to  stand  in  readiness  to  support 
any  lodgment  the  forlorn  hope  might  secure.  Brave  hearts 
beating  high  with  hope  stood  ready  to  charge  to  the  death,  in 
the  first  dawn  of  that  fatal  Sunday  morning. 

During  the  night,  information  was  brought  to  Gen.  Burnside 
of  the  contemplated  attack.  Action  was  immediately  taken  ; 
additional  troops  were  silently  sent  to  the  support  of  the  fort, 
and  the  breastworks  to  the  right  and  left  of  it  were  filled  with 
men,  who  rested  on  their  arms  in  anticipation  of  assault. 

Mr.  Hoxie,  superintendent  of  the  railroad,  in  this  emergency 
thought  of  a  Yankee  trick,  and  suggested  to  Capt.  Poe,  chief 
engineer,  that  a  lot  of  loose  telegraph  wire  be  utilized  to  trip 
up  the  charging  enemy  in  their  dash  on  the  fort.  The  ditch 
in  front  of  the  bastioned  work  was  eight  feet  deep  and  twelve 
feet  wide.  Jutting  angles  with  close  embrasures  contained 
heavy  guns  loaded  with  grape  and  cannister,  shot  and  shell. 
The  wire  was  trailed  zigzag  around  the  stumps  and  through  the 
grass  that  margined  the  pits  in  front  of  the  fort.  Lieut.  Ben- 
jamin commanded  the  artillery  in  the  fort,  and  did  splendid 
work.  About  two  thousand  men  dashed  on  the  earthworks 
with  all  the  confidence  of  victory ;  but  just  as  they  neared  the 
deep,  broad  ditch,  they  began  to  stumble,  and  many  were 
pitched  headlong  into  the  jaws  of  death  ;  the  double-shotted 
guns  were  touched  off,  and  a  perfect  pandemonium  prevailed 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE.  99 

in  the  bloody,  torn  ranks  of  the  gallant  besiegers,  who  climbed 
over  the  forms  of  their  dying  comrades  up  the  steep  sides  of 
the  fort,  which  still  belched  forth  certain  death  to  the  strug- 
gling mass  of  devoted  heroes. 

Blood  and  bone,  combined  with  noble  daring,  was  not  suffi- 
cient to  overcome  the  heroic  conduct  of  our  soldiers,  the  un- 
foreseen wire  entanglement,  and  the  terrible  cannon  and  mus- 
ketry fire  that  poured  a  blaze  of  death  into  the  very  face  of  the 
assaulting  column.  A  short  half  hour  found  the  Confederate 
heroes  dead  and  dying  in  the  ditch,  which  ran  with  human 
blood.  Out  of  the  assaulting  brigade,  one  thousand  had  been 
killed,  wounded  or  captured,  while  the  Union  loss  was  only 
four  killed  and  eleven  wounded.  A  Colonel  of  a  Georgia 
regiment  was  in  command  of  the  forlorn  hope,  and,  strange  to 
say,  he  succeeded  in  climbing  the  steep  side  of  the  fort,  and 
planting  the  "  stars  and  bars"  in  the  very  teeth  of  our  men. 
An  artillery  sergeant  lifted  his  heavy  cutlass  to  strike  down  the 
daring  officer,  but  a  more  generous  and  magnanimous  soldier 
struck  aside  the  blade,  and  saved  the  life  of  the  brave  and  reck- 
less Georgian. 

Thus  the  death  of  our  young  and  gallant  General  Sanders,  of 
Kentucky,  was  desperately  avenged  in  the  assault  on  the  fort 
named  in  his  honor. 

While  the  assault  on  the  fort  was  in  progress,  Law  and  Rob- 
ertson, on  the  south  side  of  the  river,  made  several  attacks  on 
our  works,  and  succeded  in  driving  us  out  of  our  front  lines, 
The  division  of  Gen.  Haskell  was  reinforced  by  the  command 
of  Gen.  Shackleford,  when  we  moved  on  the  enemy  and  re- 
occupied  our  lines.  My  regiment  suffered  severely  ;  the  flag 
was  shot  down,  but  through  the  staying  qualities  of  Col.  Hurt 
and  his  men,  we  more  than  held  our  ground  until  night  put  an 
end  to  the  carnage.  In  the  several  engagements  about  Arm- 
strong's Heights,  on  the  south  side,  my  regiment  lost  fifty-six 
men  in  killed  and  wounded.  With  our  superior  mountain 
marksmen,  we  were  constantly  in  demand  at  the  front,  and  thus 
suffered  more  severely  than  other  regiments  in  the  brigade. 


100  A  CHECKERED  LIFE. 

In  one  of  the  charges  of  the  regiment  through  the  woods, 
Will  Cortmell,  Company  "I,"  a  Bath  county  boy  whom  I  knew 
at  home,  was  shot  through  the  head,  just  at  my  side.  Lieut. 
Lewis,  Company  "K,"  of  Montgomery,  was  severely  wounded, 
as  also  was  Lieut.  Desilve.  About  this  time  I  was  struck  down 
by  a  Minie'  bullet,  which  shocked  my  whole  frame.  I  felt  at 
once  for  the  hole  in  my  left  breast,  but  on  close  examination, 
discovered  that  the  ball  had  passed  through  my  overcoat,  dress 
coat  and  vest,  and  imbedded  itself  in  a  thick  memorandum 
book  that  I  kept  in  my  inside  vest  pocket,  the  bullet  being 
flattened  out  by  the  resistance.  And,  strange  to  say,  the  bullet 
cut  the  leaves  of  the  book  from  the  first  date  of  the  year  to  the 
25th  of  November,  the  very  date  of  the  battle.  I  am  writing 
now  with  the  same  torn  memorandum  book  of  twenty-one 
years  ago  before  me,  and  I  am  sure  that  were  it  not  for  those 
thin,  compact  leaves,  I  should  have  been  pierced  through  the 
heart.  Some  are  thus  fated  to  escape  death  in  battle  and  oth- 
erwise by  a  hair's  breadth — 

"  To  grasp  the  skirts  of  happy  chance, 
And  breast  the  blows  of  circumstance." 

Longstreet  was  very  confident,  when  he  drew  his  lines  about 
Knoxville,  that  Burnside  and  his  "boys  in  blue"  were  fated  to 
surrender.  He  sent  in  a  flag  of  truce  demanding  the  uncon- 
ditional surrender  of  Eurnside  and  his  men  ;  but  "Old  Burny," 
as  the  boys  fondly  called  him,  replied  in  these  curt  words  :  "  I 
have  a  few  rounds  of  ammunition  and  a  few  soldiers  ;  and  if 
you  want  them,  come  and  take  them  !  "  1  will  give  Longstreet 
credit  for  trying  to  accommodate  Burnside,  for  in  the  charge 
upon  Fort  Sanders  there  was  no  nonsense  in  design  nor  halt- 
ing in  execution. 

During  the  last  week  of  the  siege,  provisions  were  very  scarce 
with  the  men  and  officers  of  the  various  regiments,  whatever 
may  have  been  the  supply  at  headquarters.  Brown  bran  bread, 
baked  in  brick  ovens  at  Knoxville,  was  issued,  and  corn  and  fat 
bacon  from  the  Holston  and  French  Broad  were  distributed  in 
sparing  quantities.  I  divided  my  supply  of  corn  on  the  cob 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE.  101 

with  my  sorrel  horse,  who  found  his  sustenance  on  the  twigs, 
roots  and  branches  of  the  woods,  while  six  ears  of  corn  -per  day 
were  given  him  as  a  luxury.  I  shelled  my  corn  in  hot  ashes, 
and  filled  my  pockets  with  the  roasted  kernels.  In  the  constant 
call  for  our  services  in  the  trenches  there  were  no  stated  times 
for  meals,  but  when  the  gnawings  of  hunger  attacked  our  patri- 
otism, we  resorted  to  parched  corn  and  water  from  the  babbling 
brook.  The  brook  did  not  babble  as  sweetly  as  in  the  love-lit 
long  ago,  but  it  was  very  filling  under  the  circumstances,  and 
after  a  banquet  of  corn  and  water  we  might  have  been  taken 
for  the  warriors  of  Falstaff  or  a  lot  of  Dutch  aldermen. 

On  the  night  of  the  4th  of  December,  1863,  Burnside  was 
advised  of  the  advanced  command  of  Gen.  Sherman,  that  had 
hastened  to  our  relief  by  the  way  of  Kingston  and  Marysville. 
Longstreet  became  very  uneasy  and  pulled  up  stakes,  leaving 
leisurely  for  East  Tennessee  and  Virginia. 

The  relieving  command  of  General  Sherman  must  have  num- 
bered thirty  thousand  men,  including  the  troops  of  Howard, 
Granger,  Blair  and  Long,  who  first  marched  into  our  camp 
on  the  south  side  of  the  Holston,  bringing  new  hope  and 
strength  to  our  depleted,  hungry  columns. 

On  the  morning  of  the  6th  of  December,  General  Sherman, 
Granger,  Blair  and  staff  officers,  rode  by  our  camp  with  ten 
thousand  men  of  Granger's  command.  We  looked  down  upon 
our  supporting  comrades  from  our  strong  fortifications  on  the 
Marysville  road  with  a  feeling  of  security,  knowing  that  sure 
deliverance  was  at  hand,  and  that  the  enemy  was  in  full  re- 
treat to  the  Virginia  line. 

On  the  7th  of  December,  my  regiment  left  their  line  of  log 
huts  that  skirted  the  Marysville  road,  and  crossed  the  Holston 
in  pursuit  of  Longstreet.  That  night  we  camped  near  the 
railroad  bridge  at  Strawberry  Plains.  The  enemy  was  re- 
ported in  force  at  Blain's  Cross-Roads.  We  moved  out  the 
next  morning  on  the  road  to  Rodgersville  and  Rutlidge,  and 
for  several  days  camped,  skirmished  and  foraged  among  the 
spurs  of  the  Clinch  mountains.  Several  prisoners  were  taken 


102  A  CHECKERED  LlhE. 

from  the  straggling  soldiers  of  Longstreet,  and  many  of  his 
men  deserted,  coming  into  our  camp  for  food,  raiment  and 
protection.  They  were  cold  and  hungry. 

I  was  greatly  astonished  to  see  some  of  the  prisoners  bare- 
footed, in  the  snows  of  winter,  among  the  sterile  hills  of  Ten- 
nesse,  starving  and  in  rags,  fighting  for  what  they  deemed  the 
right.  Their  bravery  and  misfortune  commanded  my  respect 
and  admiration,  and  I  never  failed  to  divide  with  them  my 
last  cracker  or  corn-dodger.  I  thought  of  the  rebels  at  Valley 
Forge,  under  the  immortal  Washington,  when  fighting  in  the 
snows  of  winter,  hungry  and  naked,  against  the  English  tyrant, 
and  compared  the  Revolution  patriots  of  '76  with  the  Con- 
federate soldiers  of  '61.  I  saw  this  difference,  however — the 
first  fought  for  the  liberty  of  all  men,  while  the  latter  fought 
for  the  liberty  of  some  men  !  One  fought  a  government  of 
fraud  and  force,  while  the  other  fought  the  government  of 
their  own  making,  and  that,  too,  in  the  interest  of  slavery, 
which  gave  to  the  purse-proud  few  the  right  to  enslave  millions 
of  human  beings. 

Our  command  now  camped,  and  marched  about  Strawberry 
Plains  until  the  i6th  of  January,  when  we  were  ordered  to 
move  on  Dandridge,  where  a  heavy  column  of  the  enemy 
camped  on  the  French  Broad.  General  Foster  had  taken 
command  in  East  Tennessee,  and  General  Parke  had  charge 
of  the  forces  in  active  service  in  the  field.  We  went  up  to- 
Dandridge  in  brave  style — met  the  enemy,  and  returned  a 
great  deal  faster  than  we  went.  On  the  night  of  the  ryth, 
our  army  moved  back  to  Strawberry  Plains,  continually  har- 
rassed  by  cavalry.  Such  a  night  march  is  seldom  seen. 
Wagons  blocked  the  road,  which  in  many  places  seemed  to 
have  no  bottom.  Longstreet  captured  our  beef  cattle  and 
considerable  commissary  stores.  Rain  came  down  in  torrents. 
The  next  day  my  regiment  was  left  as  a  rear-guard  to  the 
army.  We  had  to  make  several  stands  and  fire  into  the  pur- 
suing cavalry,  in  order  to  allow  the  tired  mules  and  lumber- 
ing wagons  to  escape  capture.  During  the  night  our  road  of 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE. 


103 


retreat  was  lit  up  with  burning  wagons.  We  camped  on  a 
mountain  slope  near  Strawberry  Plains,  about  twelve  o'clock 
in  the  night,  and  sank  down  to  rest  after  forty-eight  hours  of 
foolish  marches  in  search  of  an  enemy  that  our  commander  in 
the  field  dare  not  fight  when  found.  The  snow  came  down 
thick  and  fast  during  the  night,  and  when  the  morning  sun- 
light ushered  in  the  day,  we  arose  from  our  cold  slumber, 
weary,  hungry  and  dejected. 

The  enemy  followed  us  to  the  Holston  River,  and  the  rail- 
road bridge  that  we  had  but  recently  rebuilt  was  burned  to 
prevent  the  Confederate  cavalry  from  crossing.  We  continued 
our  retreat  to  Knoxville,  while  the  enemy  followed  us  nearly 
to  the  outworks  of  the  town  in  great  force.  The  idea  of 
twenty-five  thousand  veteran  soldiers  retreating  from  a  few 
thousand  ragged  and  starving  Confederates  was  disgraceful. 
There  was  not  even  a  private  in  the  army  at  Dandridge  that 
did  not  want  to  fight.  We  went  there  for  that  purpose,  and 
our  generals  flunked.  Why  our  army  of  twenty-five  thousand 
men,  including  the  command  of  Foster,  cavalry  of  Sturgis  and 
corps  of  Granger,  did  not  sfan2  and  fight  was  commented 
upon  freely,  at  the  time,  by  men  and  officers. 

I  venture  to  say  if  "Uncle  Billy"  Sherman  had  remained  in 
immediate  command,  instead  of  returning  to  Chattanooga, 
the  broken  army  of  Longstreet  would  have  been  accommo- 
dated with  a  first-class  fight ;  and  the  strong  probabilities  are 
that  the  Confederate  forces  would  have  been  thrashed  in  the 
open  field.  I  don't  say  this  in  any  spirit  of  boasting,  but  as 
a  simple  evidence  of  the  faith  soldiers  have  in  a  commander 
who  finds  the  enemy,  and  fights  him  then  and  there.  This 
thing  of  drill  and  dress  parade  in  front  of  the  enemy  is  all 
flummery  and  bosh ;  and  the  only  generals  who  have  ever  suc- 
ceeded in  battle,  down  the  centuries,  are  those  determined, 
lunatic  characters  who  say : 

"  I  have  set  my  life  upon  a  cast, 

And  will  stand  the  hazard  of  the  die." 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

CHATTANOOGA    AND    ATLANTA. 

In  the  spring  1864,  great  preparations  were  being  made 
to  move  against  the  Confederate  army  entrenched  upon  the 
strong  hills  of  Dalton  on  the  railroad  south  of  Chattanooga. 
General  Joseph  E.  Johnston,  an  accomplished  commander, 
concentrated  about  fifty  thousand  men  to  check  the  further 
progress  of  the  Union  army. 

Generals  Grant  and  Sherman  finally  concentrated  an  army 
of  a  hundred  thousand  men  about  Chattanooga.  The  army 
of  the  Cumberland  was  commanded  by  the  old  Roman, 
George  H.  Thomas.  The  army  of  the  Tennessee  was  com- 
manded by  the  chivalric  and  dashing  McPherson,  while  the 
army  of  the  Ohio  was  commanded  by  the  calm  and  imperturba- 
ble Schofield. 

General  W.  T.  Sherman,  the  best  field-fighter  of  our  war, 
took  immediate  command  of  the  combined  armies,  and  by 
masterly  movements  never  stopped  his  onward  triumph  until 
he  planted  his  victorious  colors  down  by  the  sea. 

The  24th  Kentucky  moved  away  from  Knoxville  in  the 
early  days  of  1864,  passed  on  to  Loudon,  Charleston  and 
Cleveland,  where  it  rested  awhile  to  recruit  and  organize  its 
broken  ranks.  General  J.  D.  Cox  commanded  our  Division  ; 
Daniel  Cameron,  65th  111.,  was  put  in  command  of  the  brig- 
ade, while  Gen.  Riley,  io4th  Ohio,  occasionally  commanded. 

About  the  6th  of  May,  1864,  we  moved  off  towards  Rocky 
Face  and  Buzzard  Roost,  the  23rd  Army  Corps  joining  on  the 
left  of  General  Thomas  in  the  movement  against  Tunnel 
Hill  and  Dalton.  The  movements  of  Sherman's  army  pressed 
strongly  about  the  entrenched  lines  of  Johnston  on  Dalton 

104 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE.  105 

Heights,  and  while  Thomas  and  Schofield  made  it  hot  for  the 
advanced  Confederates  about  Rocky  Face,  McPherson  was 
moving  through  Snake  Creek  Gap,  a  long,  deep,  narrow  val- 
ley, to  the  left  rear  of  Johnson,  leading  to  the  town  of 
Resaca. 

It  was  intended  that  McPherson,  with  his  twenty  thousand 
veteran  soldiers,  should  strike  the  railroad  at  Resaca  in  rear 
of  the  Confederates,  and  thus  dislodge  them  by  a  bloodless 
flank  movement.  While  the  General  was  not  at  once  suc- 
cessful in  causing  the  enemy  to  let  go  their  strong  hold  on 
Dalton,  two  days  after,  on  the  nth  of  May,  they  vacated  their 
works  and  fell  back  to  an  entrenched  position  at  Resaca. 

The  whole  army  soon  marched  through  Snake  Creek  Gap, 
and  followed  quickly  in  the  wake  of  the  Confederates.  The 
rugged  heights  and  country  roads  were  as  rough  as  breastworks, 
fallen  trees,  rifle-pits,  dense  underbrush,  mud  and  rain  could 
make  them. 

On  the  1 4th  of  May  the  army  drew  its  bayonet-lines  about 
Resaca,  and  at  once  proceeded  to  business.  The  Oostenaula 
River  was  a  protecting  line  to  Johnston,  and  in  the  event  of 
defeat  it  would  cover  his  "advance  to  the  rear;"  but  Sherman 
threw  a  couple  of  pontoon  bridges  across  the  river  below  the 
town,  where  he  could  quickly  dispatch  troops  towards  Calhoun 
and  Kingston.  McPherson  occupied  the  right,  Thomas  the 
center,  and  Schofield  the  left. 

The  division  of  General  Cox  moved  on  the  enemy's  strong 
works  about  noon,  the  24th  Kentucky  occupying  the  extreme 
right  front  of  the  command.  We  charged  across  an  open  field 
interspersed  with  dead  trees  that  flung  out  their  ghostly  arms  to 
welcome  us  to  the  shadows  of  death.  A  roaring  fire  of  artil- 
lery burst  from  the  enemy's  works  on  the  margin  of  the  woods 
on  our  front ;  shot  and  shell  fell  among  the  dead  tree-tops  and 
crashed  down  upon  the  moving  columns  like  a  shower  of  mete- 
oric stones.  An  incessant  musketry  fire  lent  its  music  to  the 
roar  of  battle,  and  the  charging  ranks  forgot  the  danger  of  the 
moment  in  the  excitement  of  action. 


I06  A  CHECKERED  LI  BE. 

Scaling  a  ridge  in  the  immediate  front  of  the  enemy's  breast- 
works, the  24th  Ky.  and  65th  Illinois,  supported  by  the  io3d  and 
1 04th  Ohio,  dashed  off  on  a  bayonet  charge,  and  before  the 
Confederates  could  realize  the  situation,  we  had  captured  their 
first  line  of  works  and  driven  them  back  upon  stronger  fortifi- 
cations. At  this  point  in  the  battle,  a  young  hero  from  Mount 
Sterling  was  shot  through  the  head,  and  died  with  a  smile  on 
his  face.  Colie  Apperson  was  a  favorite  with  every  one  in  the 
regiment,  and  had  formerly  enlisted  in  Company  "K,"  as  a 
private.  His  youth,  spirit  and  education  attracted  the  attention 
of  Col.  Grigsby  and  Quartermaster  Trumbo,  who  made  the 
eighteen-year  old  boy  Quartermaster-Sergeant,  which  position 
he  held  on  the  morning  of  the  Resaca  fight. 

When  the  charge  across  the  field  was  being  made,  I  noticed 
him  as  a  file-closer,  in  the  company  of  Captain  Anderson,  and 
knowing  that  he  should  be  in  the  rear  with  the  wagons,  ordered 
him  back  out  of  danger,  saying  that  it  was  not  his  duty  to  be 
with  a  gun  fighting  in  the  ranks.  He  begged  me  to  allow  him 
to  fight  in  one  battle  any  way,  as  he  had  enlisted  for  that  pur- 
pose. I  spoke  to  Col.  Hurt  in  regard  to  him,  and  as  everything 
was  under  way,  all  that  could  be  done  was  to  allow  matters  to 
work  themselves  out  as  fate  dictated. 

Peaceful  and  calm  the  young  soldier  lay  in  the  trench,  never 
again  to  hear  the  roar  of  battle  or  join  in  the  cheers  of  his 
comrades.  When  night  put  an  end  to  the  carnage,  Will  L. 
Vischer,  the  standard-bearer,  and  Sam  Nelson,  the  commissary 
sergeant,  fashioned  a  rude  coffin  and  buried  him  in  a  temporary 
grave  near  a  farm-house,  marking  the  spot.  At  the  close  of  the 
war  his  remains  were  removed  to  Mt.  Sterling  by  Vischer,  and 
buried  among  the  friends  who  loved  him  in  life.  Peace  to  the 
ashes  of  a  noble  young  soldier  who  stepped  even  beyond  his 
duty  to  strike  a  blow  for  the  old  flag. 

The  24th  suffered  severely  at  Resaca,  Capt.  Cary,  Company 
"B;"  Capt.  Hedges,  Company  "G;"  Lieut.  Mclntyre,  Com- 
pany "  B,"  and  Lieut.  Nelson,  Company  "  E,"  were  wounded ; 
four  enlisted  men  were  killed,  fifty-four  wounded,  and  nineteen 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE.  to/. 

were  missing — making  a  total  loss  in  the  battle,  of  eighty-one 
men.  The  24th  had  only  about  three  hundred  men  for  imme- 
diate duty  after  the  fight,  being  crippled  more  than  any  other 
regiment  in  the  brigade. 

Gen.  M.  D.  Manson  commanded  our  brigade  in  the  Resaca 
fight,  and  exposed  himself  like  the  rest  of  the  men  in  the  ad- 
vance upon  the  earthworks.  Just  before  the  close  of  the  battle 
he  received  a  painful  wound,  and  was  compelled  to  retire  from 
the  field.  Col.  Hurt  then  took  command  of  the  brigade,  and 
Lieut. -Col.  North  assumed  command  of  the  regiment.  The 
latter  had  a  fine  horse  shot  under  him,  but  continued  to  lead 
the  men  on  foot  as  if  nothing  had  occurred  to  disturb  his  equa- 
nimity. North  was  a  man  without  the  varnish  of  education, 
but  he  had  that  sterling  loyalty,  determination  and  good  com- 
mon sense,  that  made  him  superior  to  the  general  run  of  college 
graduates. 

Johnston  was  compelled  to  loose  his  hold  on  Resaca  and  the 
Oostenaula  River,  falling  back  upon  the  hills  of  Cassville  and 
Cartersville,  on  the  Etowah.  Schofield's  command  followed 
on  the  left  wing  of  the  army,  passing  through  Adairsville,  and 
on  the  morning  of  the  2oth  of  May  advanced  to  battle  against 
the  supposed  strongholds  of  the  enemy  ;  but  instead  of  fighting 
at  Cassville,  the  Confederate  commander  retreated  across  the 
Etowah,  leaving  behind  long  lines  of  fresh  breastworks,  riiie- 
pits,  field-forts,  and  that  desolation  which  marks  the  track  of  a 
retreating  army. 

We  camped  for  a  few  days  in  the  vicinity  of  Cassville  and 
Cartersville.  General  Cox's  division  was  kept  busy  recon- 
noitering  along  the  upper  waters  of  the  Etowah,  in  conjunc- 
tion with  our  cavalry.  About  fifteen  miles  from  the  railroad 
bridge  over  the  Etowah,  to  the  north-east,  iron  works  and 
foundries  had  been  established,  where  the  Confederates  manu- 
factured munitions  of  war.  Schofield  desired  the  destruction 
of  these  works,  and  Gen.  Cox  was  selected  to  devise  means  for 
destroying  them.  Our  brigade  was  appointed  to  perform  the 
task,  and  a  part  of  the  24th  Kentucky,  with  a  detail  of  men 


108  A  CHECKERED  LIFE. 

from  the  65th  Illinois  and  103(1  and  io4th  Ohio,  composed  the 
raiding  party.  Fifty  picked  men  were  selected,  and  placed 
under  the  command  of  Lieut.  James  Caughlan,  of  Company 
"  K,"  24th  Kentucky,  who  was  at  the  time  serving  as  aid-de- 
camp on  the  staff  of  Gen.  Cox.  He  was  empowered  to  select 
some  other  officer  to  assist  in  the  undertaking,  and  as  a  num- 
ber had  volunteered  to  enter  the  enemy's  lines  on  this  perilous 
duty,  he  finally  resolved  upon  my  aid,  believing  that  I  had  the 
determination  to  take  the  consequences  of  a  forlorn  hope. 

The  fifty  men  who  volunteered  knew,  through  a  loyal  citi- 
zen-guide, that  the  works  were  guarded  by  a  regiment  of  cav- 
alry. When  all  was  in  readiness,  we  marched  off  through  the 
mountains,  in  by-paths,  with  our  guns  and  forty  rounds,  and 
hard-tack.  After  going  nearly  fifteen  miles  without  meeting 
anybody,  we  were  suddenly  brought  to  a  halt  by  our  guide  on 
a  hill-top  overlooking  the  smoking  foundry  and  the  winding 
waters  of  the  Etowah.  It  was  after  six  o'clock,  and  the  mill- 
hands  had  quit  work  for  the  day,  while  the  cavalry  guarding 
the  bridge,  ford  and  works,  were  preparing  their  evening  meal 
in  fancied  security  on  the  bank  of  the  river. 

A  quick  reconnaissance  showed  us  a  gulch  leading  down  to 
the  rear  of  the  mill.  We  prepared  torches  of  pine  splinters 
to  throw  among  the  combustibles  of  the  factory.  Part  of  the 
men  were  left  in  a  clump  of  bushes  commanding  the  bridge, 
over  which  the  cavalry  might  dash.  Caughlan  and  I  led  the 
other  men  down  the  secret  gulch,  into  the  mill,  which  we  left 
in  smoke  and  flames  quicker  than  it  takes  to  tell  it.  We  also 
fired  the  bridge,  and  before  ten  minutes  had  elapsed  the  object 
of  our  raid  was  accomplished,  and  we  were  in  full  retreat  to 
our  supporting  base  at  Cartersville.  The  cavalry  followed  us 
for  several  miles,  but  by  taking  advantage  of  lanes,  short  cuts 
and  mountain  paths,  the  "horse  marines"  could  not  compete 
with  "Sherman's  bummers."  We  destroyed  the  Confederate 
arsenal  and  returned  to  camp  without  the  loss  of  a  man,  re- 
ceiving the  encomiums  of  our  comrades  and  the  thanks  of 
General  Cox. 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE. 


109 


Lieutenant  Caughlan  was  the  leading  spirit  and  determined 
genius  of  the  raid.  He  coincided  with  my  desperate  sugges- 
tions, believing,  as  all  true  soldiers  believe,  that  the  bold  and 
unexpected  thing  results  in  success.  In  war,  if  it  become* 
necessary  to  burn,  wound  and  kill,  do  it  at  once,  and  senti- 
mentalize when  the  enemy  is  dead.  No  man  ever  made  a 
successful  general  unless  he  believed  in  his  own  power  to  win 
the  battle  before  it  began.  The  soldier  who  enters  a  fight 
with  a  doubt  is  half  whipped  before  the  action  commences; 
but  he  who  has  no  doubt  of  his  own  heart  and  strength  will 
almost  invariably  meet  with  the  success  his  bravery  engenders. 

Caughlan  was  a  natural  soldier,  young  and  enthusiastic. 
He  was  of  Irish  blood,  imbued  with  the  firmness  and  patriot- 
ism of  General  Lyon,  and  the  religious  solemnity  of  Stone- 
wall Jackson.  While  serving  on  the  staff  of  General  Cox,  at 
the  battle  of  Franklin,  he  was  shot  through  the  body  in  rally- 
ing broken  Union  forces,  fronting  the  charging  lines  of  Gen. 
Pat  Cleburne,  the  Confederate  warrior.  Both  of  these  gallant 
Irishmen  fell  on  the  field  of  Franklin,  one  fighting  for  the 
''stars  and  bars,"  and  the  other  for  the  "  stars  and  stripes." 

The  grass  has  long  since  grown  above  their  heroic  graves, 
and  the  blooming  wild  flowers  have  come  and  gone  in  the 
circling  years ;  but  in  the  halls  of  memory  they  are  enshrined 
by  those  who  loved  them  in  the  long  ago. 

"  So  with  an  equal  splendor 

The  morning  sun-rays  fall, 
With  a  touch  impartially  tender 

On  the  blossoms  blooming  for  all 
Under  the  sod  and  the  dew, 

Waiting  the  judgment  day ; 
Bordering  with  gold,  the  Blue, 

Mellowing  with  gold,  the  Gray !" 

Johnston  was  unwilling  to  risk  a  general  battle  at  Cassville, 
on  account  of  the  cold  support  received  from  General  Hood, 
one  of  his  corps  commanders.  Hood  was  a  fiery  officer,  and 
wanted  his  own  way  in  attacking  the  enemy.  He  had  the 


IIO  A  CHECKERED  LU-E. 

courage  of  a  lion,  but  lacked  that  calm  judgment  necessary  to 
success  in  great  emergencies.  When  a  boy  at  school,  in  Mt. 
Sterling,  Ky.,  and  previous  to  his  designation  to  West  Point, 
he  would  frequently  get  into  quarrels  with  his  schoolmates, 
and  while  he  always  fought  bravely,  he  generally  got  the  worst 
of  the  encounter.  So,  again,  we  have  the  truth  of  the  old 
adage  :  "  The  child  is  father  to  the  man. ' '  Peace  to  the  ashes 
of  a  brave  soldier  and  a  warm-hearted  friend. 

Between  the  23d  and  25th  of  May,  Sherman's  army  had 
passed  over  the  Etowah,  and  had  started  a  flank  movement 
through  the  Allatoona  Mountains  in  search  of  the  retreating 
enemy.  It  was  necessary  for  us  to  keep  up  our  railroad  com- 
munications with  Chattanooga,  and  while  Johnston  and  his 
men  destroyed  all  the  bridges  in  their  flight  towards  Atlanta, 
they  were  rebuilt  as  if  by  magic,  by  the  intelligent  engineer 
corps  of  the  army.  No  more  important  work  was  performed 
by  any  part  of  the  army  than  the  rapid  reconstruction  of  rail- 
road bridges,  upon  which  depended  the  supplies  for  our  troops, 
who  were  fighting  in  front  on  short  rations. 

Schofield,  with  the  army  of  the  Ohio  and  Stoneman's  cavalry, 
kept  on  the  left  of  our  advance,  near  the  railroad,  through  the 
Allatoona  range.  We  passed  near  the  village  of  Burnt  Hick- 
ory in  making  our  way  towards  Dallas.  Our  march  through 
the  rugged  roads  of  Allatoona  was  the  weariest  and  worst  I 
ever  experienced.  We  passed  gulches  formerly  worked  for 
gold,  toppling  rocks  and  splintered  crags,  narrow  ridges 
scarcely  broad  enough  for  wagons,  swamps  and  ravines  covered 
with  thick  underbrush,  and  tall  pines  and  scrubby  oaks,  whose 
dripping  boughs  pattered  a  funeral  requiem  to  the  dying 
groans  of  company  officers  and  advanced  pickets,  who  con- 
stantly went  down  to  death. 

The  Confederate  army  had  stopped  among  the  abrupt  hills 
of  Allatoona  at  a  place  called  New  Hope,  named  in  honor  of  a 
Methodist  church  established  there  some  years  before.  It  now 
seemed  that  a  general  engagement  was  imminent,  and  that  the 
long-sought  battle  was  at  hand.  The  broken  ground  and  field 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE.  in 

fortifications  were  all  in  favor  of  the  enemy,  and  although 
General  Sherman  had  superior  numbers,  he  was  offset  by  the 
splendid  position  of  Johnston.  There  was  no  time  lost  by  us 
in  moving  to  the  front,  quick  as  muddy  roads  and  rolling  hills 
would  admit.  Each  day  we  advanced  through  rain,  mud  and 
brush,  throwing  up  breastworks  with  head-logs  as  we  steadily 
drew  a  cordon  of  bayonets  about  the  enemy.  Firing  was 
constant,  and  I  could  almost  swear  that  during  the  month  of 
May,  the  rain,  roar  of  artillery  and  rattle  of  musketry  never 
ceased,  night  or  day. 

The  24th  went  to  rest  in  the  woods  about  New  Hope  church, 
wet,  hungry  and  desperate.  When  the  blessed  angel  of  sleep 
seemed  to  hover  over  us,  the  sound  of  small  arms  broke  our 
repose,  and  the  bullets  kept  plugging  our  earthworks  and 
head-logs,  while  many  of  them  found  a  lodgment  in  the  breasts 
of  the  boys  in  blue.  McPherson,  Hooker  and  Thomas  kept 
pushing  the  enemy,  and  a  number  of  engagements  that  rose  to 
the  dignity  of  battles  were  fought  by  the  contending  armies. 

About  the  ist  of  June,  Johnston  began  to  relax  his  hold  on 
the  foot-hills  of  Allatoona,  and  by  the  4th  he  was  retreating 
to  the  heights  of  Kenesaw  Mountain,  where  fortifications  were 
erected  that  defied  assault.  Schofield's  command  swung 
around  on  the  railroad,  passed  through  Ackworth  to  Big 
Shanty  and  began  at  once  to  move  upon  the  bold  peaks  of 
Kenesaw  that  stood  out  in  grand  relief  against  the  evening  sky. 

Kenesaw,  Pine  Mountain  and  Lost  Mountain  had  to  be 
taken  before  we  could  march  in  triumph  to  Atlanta ;  and  the 
contract  was  not  easy  to  accomplish.  But,  as  we  worked  our 
way  through  fearful  obstacles  among  the  passes  of  Allatoona 
.and  New  Hope,  we  felt  confident  of  success  in  the  almost 
insurmountable  job  before  us ;  and  on  the  loth  of  June  drew 
up  against  frowning  mountains  that  lay  in  our  pathway. 

The  bridges '  and  railroad  behind  us  had  been  quickly 
repaired,  and  the  snort  of  the  iron  horse  was  soon  heard  echo- 
ing among  the  gorges  of  Big  Shanty,  in  sight  of  the  enemy  on 
the  mountain  tops.  They  must  have  thought  Yankee  railroad 


II2  A  CHECKERED  LIFE, 

workers  possessed  the  lamp  of  Aladdin,  having  only  to  wish 
and  rub  for  the  accomplishment  of  every  desire.  I,  myself, 
was  amazed  at  the  rapidity  with  which  we  were  supplied  with 
beef,  crackers,  pork  and  the  materials  of  war,  coming  through 
Kentucky,  Tennessee  and  Georgia  to  the  front  of  the  rebellion. 
The  generality  of  soldiers  have  no  conception  of  the  thought 
and  trouble  taken  by  the  commander  of  an  army  to  supply  his 
troops  in  passing  through  an  enemy's  country,  where  every 
vestige  of  forage  and  food  has  been  swept  away  by  retreating 
soldiers. 

The  battle  of  Kenesaw  Mountain,  and  encounters  leading 
up  to  that  fatal  June  day,  were  the  stepping-stones  to  Atlanta, 
and  the  threshold  to  the  back  door  of  the  Confederate  temple. 

McPherson  worked  around  to  the  left  on  the  railroad, 
Thomas  supported  his  right,  and  Schofield  changed  base  to 
right  in  rear,  and  swung  around  Lost  Mountain  to  the  foot- 
hills of  Kenesaw.  Hooker,  as  usual,  fought  at  every  turn  in 
the  road,  and  like  his  fellowtype,  Hood,  never  calculated  the 
chances  while  there  was  any  body  to  hit.  The  real  object  of 
"  Fighting  Joe"  was  to  fight  somebody  and  reap  unexpected 
glory  for  himself,  irrespective  of  his  comrade's  renown.  The 
old  soldier  was  a  little  vain  ;  yet,  considering  his  aristocratic 
education  at  West  Point  and  his  experience  in  three  wars,  no 
particular  blame  should  be  attached  to  the  bold  hero  who 
fought  above  the  clouds  at  Lookout  Mountain,  and  never 
refused  a  fight  while  he  had  a  man  to  command.  The 
"  boys"  had  confidence  in  the  valor  and  brilliancy  of  "  Fight- 
ing Joe,"  and  in  the  coming  years  his  name  will  be  sung  and 
told  in  story.  The  old  warrior  had  his  failings,  but  halting 
and  hesitating  were  not  in  the  list,  and  while  the  enemy  was 
in  front  he  never  asked  a  better  post  than  that  of  danger. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

KENESAW    MOUNTAIN. 

From  the  loth  of  June  to  the  27th,  the  fighting  about  Ken- 
esaw  was  almost  continuous.  The  rain  came  down  in  tor- 
rents, superinduced,  no  doubt,  by  the  concussion  of  roaring 
artillery  and  the  rattle  of  musketry.  Roads,  fields  and  woods 
were  resolved  into  quagmires,  and  the  small  creeks  leading 
from  the  frowning  battlements  of  Kenesaw  were  swollen  to 
the  magnitude  of  rivers,  and  spread  over  the  bottom  land  in 
all  directions. 

On  the  1 4th,  while  General  Johnston  was  surveying  the 
advancing  columns  of  Sherman  from  the  heights  of  Pine 
Mountain,  in  company  with  Hardee  and  Polk,  a  solid  shot 
from  our  artillery  hit  the  latter  in  the  breast,  causing  instant 
death,  throwing  a  cloud  of  sorrow  over  the  ranks  of  the  Con- 
federates. 

Leonidas  Polk  gave  up  the  peaceful  canons  of  the  Episcopal 
chureh  for  the  cannon  of  bloody  war,  and  like  his  namesake 
at  Thermopylae,  died  with  his  harness  on.  No  nobler  monu- 
ment than  Pine  Mountain  could  mark  the  spot  where  the 
fighting  preacher  fell,  and  as  the  coming  ages  roll  away,  the 
tall  pines  on  the  bold  mountain  peak  will  sing  a  requiem  to 
his  memory,  and  the  waters  of  Chattahoochee  will  mingle 
with  his  fame  forever. 

On  the  22d  of  June,  Schofield  had  swung  around  to  the  right 
of  Hooker,  commanding  the  2oth  Army  Corps.  We  were  on 
the  road  leading  from  Powder  Springs  to  Marietta,  the  rear 
base  of  Johnston. 

"3  8 


II4  A  CHECKERED  LI  BE. 

In  the  afternoon,  when  no  particular  fight  seemed  at  hand, 
the  enemy  made  a  fierce  and  determined  attack  on  Hooker, 
which  was  returned  by  the  divisions  of  Geary  and  Ward  with 
double  vigor,  and  just  as  the  right  of  the  20th  Corps  was  being 
turned,  Schofield,  who  watched  the  attack,  threw  in  the  divi- 
sion of  General  Hascall,  supported  by  General  Cox  and  his 
command,  routing  the  audacious  soldiers  of  Johnston  and 
Hood.  The  killed  and  wounded  of  the  enemy  were  left  on 
the  field  of  battle,  and  afterwards  buried  by  our  men.  The 
i4th  Ky.,  of  Hascall's  command,  acted  very  gallantly  as  ad- 
vanced fighters,  and  while  the  loss  in  killed  and  wounded  was 
severe,  the  survivors  were  glorified  in  the  action,  and  main- 
tained the  renown  of  Old  Kentucky. 

Rain  continued  to  pour  down  as  if  emptied  from  a  sky-tank 
with  the  plug  out,  while  Schofield  wiggled  along  to  the  right 
and  front,  his  men  drenched  to  the  skin,  with  only  an  occa- 
sional smudgy  fire  improvised  to  cook  their  coffee  and  bacon. 
The  men  of  the  24th  often  wished  that  they  could  be  led 
directly  against  the  enemy  and  die  on  the  field  of  battle, 
rather  than  shake  out  their  lives  in  the  dripping  woods  and 
underbrush  that  waved  in  the  chilling  winds. 

Our  division  was  headed  down  the  Sandtown  road,  across 
Olley's  Creek,  swollen  to  the  extent  of  a  river,  and  the  coun- 
try bridges  over  tributary  streams  had  been  swept  away  by 
the  flood,  or  torn  up  by  the  enemy.  On  the  25th  and  26th, 
we  endeavored  to  cross  a  bridge  over  a  big  creek  on  the  Sand- 
town  road.  Generals  Sherman  and  Schofield  were  anxious  to 
make  our  alignment  with  Hooker  and  Thomas,  and  thus  close 
in  on  the  fortified  base  of  Kenesaw.  The  bridge  just  men- 
tioned was  guarded  by  cavalry  and  mountain  howitzers  on  the 
extreme  left  of  Johnston,  protecting  the  roads  leading  to 
Marietta.  The  io3d  Ohio  had  endeavored  to  dislodge  the 
enemy  from  the  high  road  on  the  opposite  banks  of  the  stream, 
but  whenever  they  emerged  from  the  timbers  leading  down  to 
the  bridge,  a  fearful  rattle  of  howitzer  missiles  assailed  them, 
driving  them  back. 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE.  i  1 5 

The  General  commanding  rode  up  in  the  woods,  near  a 
church,  with  his  staff  officers  flying  about  like  blackbirds  in  a 
corn-field.  Orders  were  given  to  cross  the  stream  at  all  haz- 
ards. General  Cox  came  to  Colonel  Hurt  and  asked  him  to 
move  the  24th  to  the  front,  reconnoiter,  and  if  possible,  charge 
across  the  bridge,  and  make  a  lodgment  on  the  south  side,  so 
that  the  troops  of  Schofield  and  Stoneman  could  pass  over  and 
complete  the  advancing  line.  The  General  assured  Colonel 
Hurt  that  our  desperate  charge  would  be  supported  by  a  bat- 
tery that  had  just  unlimbered  in  the  margin  of  the  woods,  and 
we  should  receive  the  assistance  of  the  whole  division  if  nec- 
essary, while  General  Riley  would  be  in  immediate  support 
with  his  brigade. 

The  24th  was  drawn  up  along  the  Sandtown  road  in  double 
file,  heading  towards  the  bridge  a  hundred  yards  in  front, 
looking  down  a  steep  decline.  Col.  Hurt  and  myself  con- 
sulted, and  examined  with  a  glass  the  status  of  the  bridge. 
We  found  that  the  flooring  had  been  torn  up,  and  nothing  but 
a  few  sleepers,  hand-rails  and  long  stringers  were  left  to  cross 
upon.  The  flood  had  almost  reached  the  stringers,  and  was 
running  rapidly  through  the  woods.  It  was  concluded  to  dash 
down  to  the  bridge  and  let  the  men  scramble  over  as  best  they 
could,  and  those  who  succeeded  in  getting  over  first,  were  to 
charge  up  the  hill  right  in  the  face  of  "  Jackass  battery."  I 
went  to  the  captains  of  the  ten  companies  in  person,  and 
ordered  them  to  instruct  their  men  regarding  the  perilous 
charge  before  us,  and  as  I  returned  to  the  head  of  the  line, 
gave  the  men  encouragement,  assuring  them  that  while  other 
regiments  had  tried  to  cross  the  creek,  the  "Old  24th"  was 
equal  to  the  task,  and  would  certainly  meet  with  success. 

Hurt  and  myself  took  the  head  of  the  regiment — he  the 
right  file  and  I  the  left.  When  all  was  in  readiness  the  artil- 
lery opened,  and  we  dashed  off  at  a  rapid  run  for  the  bridge, 
scrambling  across  like  squirrels.  One  murderous  fire  was  all 
the  battery  could  pour  into  us,  for  before  they  could  reload 
we  cut  down  the  gunners,  killed  a  number  of  horses,  captured 


n6  A  CHECKERED  LlfiE. 

two  pieces,  and  sent  their  cavalry  support  in  rapid  flight  down 
the  road  to  Marietta.  Our  loss  was  only  seven  men. 

In  half  an  hour  the  corps  of  Schofield  had  crossed  over  the 
bridge,  the  divisions  had  made  alignment  with  Hooker,  and 
the  cavalry  of  General  Stoneman  was  pressing  the  enemy  ta 
the  very  parapets  of  Kenesaw.  The  24th  received  the  thanks 
of  Schofield  and  Cox,  and  the  privilege  of  resting  for  coffee 
and  "hard  tack"  on  the  night  of  the  25th,  advancing  next 
morning  in  fine  condition  for  the  coming  battle  of  the  27th  of 
June,  1864. 

The  morning  sun  rose  bright  and  warm  on  the  frowning 
heights  of  Kenesaw.  The  enemy  lay  behind  strong  fortifica- 
tions, with  fifty  thousand  men  ready  and  willing  to  receive  our 
charging  columns.  Sherman,  McPherson,  Thomas  and  Scho- 
field determined  to  make  a  direct  assault  on  the  mountain  bar- 
riers. A  hundred  thousand  victorious  soldiers  were  thought 
strong  enough  to  capture  any  place ;  and  as  Johnston  had 
made  his  boldest  stand  at  Kenesaw,  Sherman  concluded  ta 
give  him  direct  battle  and  risk  the  consequences. 

About  nine  o'clock  on  the  morning  of  the  27th,  the  charging 
columns  of  McPherson  and  Thomas  were  moving  in  full  force 
against  the  parapets  at  the  base  of  the  mountains,  while  Scho- 
field continued  to  tighten  his  grip  on  the  Confederate  left,, 
threatening  the  railroad  at  Marietta.  Artillery  and  musketry- 
kept  up  a  constant  fire.  My  regiment  moved  to  the  right  of 
Hooker's  command,  and  as  we  made  our  way  through  the 
dense  brush,  dark  woods  and  fallen  trees  cut  to  intercept  our 
progress,  I  could  see,  far  to  the  left,  long  dark  lines  as  thejr 
swayed  backward  and  forward  in  the  rising  smoke  of  battle. 
Loud  and  long  came  the  thundering  noise  of  shot  and  shell 
from  the  mountain  top  on  our  advancing  troops.  Heaven's 
artillery  seemed  working  in  Titanic  grandeur,  to  destroy  our 
wavering  lines.  McPherson  and  his  men,  at  one  period  of  the 
battle,  scaled  Little  Kenesaw,  and  the  right  flank  of  Johnston 
seemed  in  imminent  danger;  but  when  the  smoke  had  cleared 
away,  they  were  seen  to  be  backing  down  the  mountain  under 


A  CHECKERED  J.IFE.  117 

a  galling  fire.  Old  "  Pap  "  Thomas  sent  his  army  against  the 
tangled  abatis  and  earthworks  with  the  power  of  a  centre 
wedge,  driving  his  men  into  the  very  jaws  of  death,  but  the 
stubborn  heroes  of  Johnston  would  not  give  way,  sending  a 
constant  stream  of  lead  and  iron  into  the  vitals  of  the  Union 
army.  Schofield  endeavored  to  swing  into  the  rear  of  the 
Confederates,  pressing  right  up  to  their  fortifications,  and 
crouching  down  in  front  of  the  fallen  trees  and  rifle-pits  he 
could  not  surmount. 

Human  blood  and  bravery  have  seldom  done  more  in  three 
hours  than  Sherman's  men  did  at  Kenesaw;  and  while  this 
is  true,  I  must  candidly  acknowledge  that  the  defiant  heroes 
of  Johnston  did  more,  for  they  repelled  to  the  last  our  re- 
peated assaults,  and  prevented  our  army  from  taking  their  for- 
tified mountain. 

About  ii  o'clock  in  the  morning  I  was  struck  by  a  conical 
ball  in  the  upper  part  of  the  right  thigh ;  the  missile  passing 
between  the  femoral  artery  and  thigh  bone.  The  wound  was 
painful  and  dangerous.  I  had  dismounted  from  my  horse, 
and  was  on  the  left  of  the  regiment  moving  to  the  front,  ahead 
of  the  men. 

The  24th  hesitated  somewhat  in  the  margin  of  a  wood  be- 
fore entering  an  open  field  that  lay  in  our  immediate  front, 
and  directly  in  view  of  the  enemy's  works  at  the  base  of  the 
mountain.  In  order  to  encourage  the  men  to  the  charge,  I 
dashed  into  the  open  field,  sword  in  hand,  raised  a  cheer, 
threw  up  my  hands,  and  fell  to  the  earth  pierced  through  and 
through  with  a  Confederate  bullet.  The  shot  almost  paralyzed 
my  whole  frame,  and  it  seemed  as  if  some  strong  woodsman 
had  struck  me  with  a  maul. 

General  Riley  and  his  surgeon  were  among  the  first  to  sa- 
lute me  after  I  fell,  my  regiment  having  passed  to  the  front  in 
a  charge  upon  the  rifle-pits  of  the  enemy.  My  long  cavalry 
boots  soon  filled  with  blood,  and  it  seemed  as  if  I  had  been  shot 
through  the  foot ;  but  when  the  doctor,  pulled  off  my  boot  and 
ripped  up  my  clothing,  the  wound  was  soon  discovered.  A 


Hg  A  CHECKERED  Lll-E. 

silk  handkerchief  was  tightly  twisted  above  the  bullet-hole, 
stopping  in  some  measure  the  flow  of  blood. 

The  battle  was  still  raging,  dry  leaves  caught  fire,  and  sput- 
tering bullets  kept  plugging  the  underbrush  and  trees  that  sur- 
rounded my  prostrate  form.  General  Riley  remarked,  no 
doubt  for  my  encouragement,  that  he  would  give  five  thousand 
dollars  for  my  wound,  in  order  to  get  an  honorable  leave  of 
absence,  and  retire  from  the  ragged  edge  of  battle  to  the  lan- 
guishing, love-lit  eyes  of  his  Buckeye  belle.  The  old  General 
was  a  wag,  and  between  himself,  Jack  Casement,  Daniel  Cam- 
eron, Smith  Hurt,  John  Gill,  Wash.  Mclntyre  and  myself, 
there  existed  a  cordial  friendship  outside  of  official  rank,  which 
never  refused  the  fried  chicken  of  the  farmer,  or  the  more  ex- 
hilarating enthusiasm  that  gurgled  from  the  mouth  of  the  old 
canteen. 

Let  us  drink  to  our  friends  who  fell ; 
Be  their  memoiy  fresh  and  green ; 
For  they  served  their  country  well, 
Like  the  glorious  old  canteen  ! 

Captain  Goodpaster,  of  Co.  "I,"  was  wounded  in  the  face 
during  the  battle,  and  several  men  of  the  regiment  were  hit. 
Night  set  in  with  the  Union  lines  defeated  in  their  designs 
against  the  enemy,  but  there  was  a  general  confidence  that  our 
desperate  onslaught  was  the  stepping-stone  to  early  victory,  as 
was  shown  in  the  course  of  a  few  days,  by  Johnston  relinquish- 
ing his  grasp  on  the  mountain  barrier,  and  retreating  to  his 
strong  field-works  on  the  Chattahoochee  river,  and  soon  after 
to  the  fortified  environments  of  Atlanta. 

The  only  mistake  made  by  Sherman  from  Chattanooga  to 
Atlanta  was  his  direct  charge  and  assault  on  Kenesaw.  We 
lost  about  three  thousand  men  in  three  hours,  who  might 
have  been  saved  by  one  of  those  flank  movements  so  success- 
ful in  previous  advances ;  but  soldiers  are  paid  to  fight  and  be 
killed.  I  think  the  incessant  skirmishing,  bad  roads,  tearing 
underbrush,  constant  rains  and  daily  retreats  of  the  enemy  so 
worked  upon  the  mind  of  the  General  commanding,  that  when 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE.  Ir^ 

he  saw  a  real  chance  of  engaging  the  Confederates  in  actual 
battle,  he  bluntly  determined  to  fight  them  at  any  cost,  and 
moved  at  once  upon  their  ramparts.  It  can  readily  be  seen 
how  natural  is  the  impulse  to  strike  a  retreating  foe,  particu- 
larly when  he  stands  to  fight  every  few  miles,  only  to  cover 
his  crumbling  lines  to  a  farther  base  of  operations.  It  is  very 
aggravating  to  know  and  feel  that  you  can  whip  an  enemy,, 
but  cannot  catch  him,  and  his  show  and  bluster  for  battle  adds 
recklessness  to  ambition. 

During  the  months  of  May  and  June,  1864,  General  Sher- 
man lost  about  seventeen  thousand  men.  When  the  nature 
of  the  ground  is  taken  into  consideration,  and  daily  advances 
against  a  stubborn  enemy  behind  strong  field-works,  contem- 
plated in  a  military  light,  the  aggregate  loss  is  not  large,  and' 
the  wonder  is  that  twice  the  number  were  not  lost. 

I  laid  in  a  field-hospital  the  night  after  the  battle,  covered 
by  the  spreading  branches  of  an  oak,  and  by  my  side  were 
many  other  soldiers  who  received  their  death-wound  that  fatal 
day.  The  stars  shone  brighter  than  I  ever  saw  them  before, 
and  while  pain  tortured  my  body,  my  soul  was  wafted  away 
into  the  realms  of  fancy  and  patriotic  contemplation  that 
made  me  feel,  in  the  event  of  death,  I  would  die,  at  least,  the 
heroic  death  of  a  soldier,  among  comrades  who  had  fought 
and  fell  in  battle.  I  left  my  friends  in  front  with  regret,  to 
suffer  in  hospital  wards  for  months,  and  hobble  around  on 
crutches,  receiving  the  attention  of  doctors  and  the  sympathy 
of  "  home-guard  "  humanity. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

BATTLES    ABOUT    ATLANTA. 

The  gallant  24th  Kentucky  went  on  towards  Atlanta,  from 
victory  to  victory,  participating  in  the  engagements  that  se- 
cured that  stronghold  of  rebellion. 

McPherson,  Thomas  and  Schofield  kept  hammering  away  at 
the  brazen  front  of  the  Confederacy,  and  day  by  day  the 
portals  of  their  strength  and  ambition  became  weaker. 

General  John  B.  Hood,  the  fighting  school-boy,  had  been 
placed  in  command  of  the  Confederate  forces,  superseding 
one  of  the  most  cautions,  and  at  the  same  time  the  most  dar- 
ing, commanders  in  the  South. 

The  Union  generals  knew  that  placing  Hood  in  command 
meant  fight.  Like  Joe  Hooker,  he  would  fight  ten  times  a 
day,  and  go  back  the  eleventh  time  to  show  the  foe  that  he 
was  not  afraid  to  kill  his  last  man.  We  admire  the  pluck  of 
such  characters,  but  their  judgment  is  held  at  a  discount. 

On  the  22d  of  July,  at  Peach  Tree  Creek,  Hood  march- 
ed out  in  force,  and  made  a  desperate  attempt  to  turn  the  left 
of  McPherson 's  army.  In  fact,  he  got  in  the  rear  of  the 
Union  lines,  and  doubled  divisions  and  brigades  upon  each 
other,  as  if  they  had  been  so  many  reeds  in  a  cane-brake. 
Seven  successive  assaults  were  made  upon  the  Union  lines, 
and  seven  times  repulse  came  to  the  foe.  Dead  and  wounded 
lay  in  piles  in  the  fields  and  woods,  and  thousands  of  prisoners 
were  taken  on  each  side. 

The  first  bold  and  desperate  battle  of  Hood  did  not  meet 
the  expectations  of  his  friends  or  government.  He  was  com- 
pelled to  crouch  back  to  the  narrow  precincts  of  Atlanta, 

120 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE.  121 

bleeding  and  dying  in  his  first  attempt  to  retrieve  what  John- 
ston had  lost.  It  is  true,  he  made  Union  ribs  crack  and  loyal 
hearts  shiver  at  his  terrible  audacity,  convincing  every  man  at 
the  front  that  a  regular  Swarrow  held  the  flashing  sword  of 
desperate  war. 

Gloom  and  sincere  sorrow  settled  down  on  the  Union  camps 
that  July  night,  and  when  the  evening  stars  lit  up  the  "  bound- 
less blue,"  every  soldier  knew  that  General  McPherson,  com- 
mander of  the  Army  of  the  Tennessee,  was  dead.  Victory 
was  dearly  purchased  by  payment  of  such  a  price.  He  was 
the  beau  ideal  of  a  soldier.  Murat,  Ney  or  Kellerman  never 
inspired  their  men  with  more  sublime  daring  than  the  heroic 
McPherson.  His  clean-cut  form,  handsome  face  and  flashing 
eye  can  never  be  forgotten ;  and  as  the  years  roll  away,  his 
memory  will  grow  greener  and  brighter,  and  be  sung  by  the 
descendants  of  the  Army  of  the  Tennessee  while  that  historic 

river  runs  down  to  the  ocean. 

#  * 
* 

On  the  28th,  a  general  movement  was  made  to  the  rear  of 
Atlanta.  Schofield  swung  around  toward  East  Point  to  the 
Macon  Railroad  near  Rough-and -Ready,  with  Thomas  on  his 
right,  while  General  Howard  threatened  Jonesboro'.  On  the 
3ist,  the  whole  army  began  to  tighten  its  grip  about  Jones- 
boro', where  Hardee  held  his  corps  in  stubborn  defense. 
Schofield  was  the  first  to  strike  the  railroad,  when  a  general  tear- 
ing up  of  rails,  ties  and  bridges  began. 

The  24th  Ky.,  the  advanced  skirmishers  of  Gen.  Cox's  Di- 
vision, 23d  Army  Corps,  was  the  first  regiment  of  Federal 
troops  to  strike  the  railroad  near  Rough-and-Ready,  the  blow 
resulting  in  the  immediate  evacuation  of  Atlanta,  and  the  oc- 
cupation by  the  Union  army  of  that  most  important  strong- 
hold of  the  rebellion. 

The  whole  North  saw  in  the  victories  culminating  in  the 
capture  of  Atlanta,  the  beginning  of  the  end,  and  that  a  few 
short  months  would  close  forever  the  dying  eyes  of  the  Con- 
federacy. 


122  A  CHECKERED  LIFE. 

General  W.  T.  Sherman  was  the  head  and  front  of  the  At- 
lanta campaign.  To  his  great  genius,  indomitable  energy  and 
military  knowledge,  can  be  traced  the  untiring  advancement 
of  the  army,  constant  righting,  and  the  glorious  success  that 
finally  rewarded  his  heroic  achievements.  The  stream  cannot 
rise  higher  than  its  source,  neither  can  an  army  go  beyond  the 
genius  of  its  general.  A  brave  and  intelligent  commander  in 
the  open  field  with  fifty  thousand  men  can  whip  a  hundred 
thousand  good  soldiers  commanded  by  a  theoretical,  hesitat- 
ing, namby-pamby  character.  Show  me  the  general,  and  I'll 
show  you  the  army.  Show  me  bravery  without  ripe  judgment, 
and  I'll  point  to  defeat ;  but  the  general  possessing  both  has 
half  won  the  victory  before  he  fights. 

Compliments  poured  in  thick  and  fast  upon  General  Sher- 
man and  his  gallant  men  after  the  fall  of  Atlanta. 

President  Abraham  Lincoln  said  : 

"  The  marches,  battles,  sieges  and  other  military  operations  that  have 
signalized  the  campaign  must  render  it  famous  in  the  annals  of  wai,  and 
entitle  those  who  participated  therein  to  the  hearty  applause  and  thanks  of 
the  nation." 

General  H.  W.  Halleck  said  to  Sherman  : 

•"I  do  not  hesitate  to  say  that  your  campaign  has  been  the  most  brilliant 
of  the  war." 

General  Grant,  commanding  the  armies  of  the  United  States, 
said  to  the  hero  of  Atlanta  : 

"  I  feel  that  you  have  accomplished  the  most  gigantic  undertaking  given 
to  any  General  in  this  war,  and  with  a  skill  and  ability  that  will  be  ack- 
nowledged in  history." 

Encomiums  such  as  these  are  rarely  given  by  high  authority 
to  subordinate  valor,  and  I  am  very  sure  that  every  officer  and 
soldier  in  Sherman's  command  appreciated  the  justice  of  the 
compliments. 

"  Pap"  Thomas  shared  in  the  glory  of  "Uncle  Billy,"  and 
Schofield,  Howard,  Logan,  Dodge,  Blair,  Davis  and  Cox  were 
delighted  in  the  crowning  victory  that  broke  the  back-bone 
of  the  rebellion,  and  finally  crushed  in  its  ribs,  when  Sherman 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE.  12$ 

marched  down  to  the  sea.  Gen.  Logan  was  conspicuous  in 
push  and  dash  after  the  fall  of  McPherson,  and  made  a  record 
that  will  live  in  the  golden  page  of  heroes. 

The  day  after  the  battle  of  Kenesaw  Mountain  I  was  placed 
in  an  ambulance,  and  taken  over  a  rough  road  to  Big  Shanty,. 
on  the  railroad,  where  I  was  put  in  a  freight  car,  and  sent  to 
Chattanooga  with  a  number  of  wounded  comrades. 

Arriving  at  Chattanooga,  the  wounded  were  taken  to  the 
hospital  located  on  Lookout  Mountain.  I  remained  on  the 
mountain  but  two  days,  during  which  time  my  wound  became 
very  painful,  and  mortification  began.  I  was  placed  again  in 
an  ambulance,  and  taken  down  to  Chattanooga  and  Nashville. 

As  the  ambulance  driver  was  turning  a  prominent  point  on. 
Lookout  Mountain  I  got  a  splendid  view  of  Chattanooga,  Mis- 
sionary Ridge,  and  the  serpentine  waters  of  the  Tennessee, 
meandering  through  foot-hills  and  plains  below.  My  heart 
and  imagination  went  back  to  that  raw  November  day  when 
Sherman,  Hooker,  Thomas  and  Grant  moved  in  massive  col- 
umns upon  the  stubborn  lines  of  Bragg,  strongly  fortified  upon 
these  bold  heights,  with  the  rugged  peaks  of  Lookout  on  the 
right,  frowning  dark  and  terrible  upon  the  "boys  in  blue"  as 
they  charged  up  the  rocky  face  of  the  mountain,  with  "Fight- 
ing Joe  Hooker,"  who  planted  the  stars  and  stripes,  carried 
by  heroes  from  the  8th  Kentucky  regiment,  above  the  lower- 
ing clouds. 

The  flag  was  baptised  anew  in  the  storm  of  battle,  and  when 
its  broad  stripes  and  bright  stars  caught  the  evening  sunshine 
breaking  through  the  clouds  of  Lookout  Mountain,  a  wild  pa- 
triotic cheer  went  up  from  the  hearts  of  a  hundred  thousand 
men,  that  echoed  and  re-echoed  among  the  hills,  and  floated 
away  in  defiance  above  the  roar  of  battle. 

When  I  arrived  in  Nashville  my  wound  was  in  a  very  bad 
condition,  the  thigh  swollen  with  a  dark  greenish  hue.  The 
surgeons  of  the  old  stone  college  hospital  examined  the 
wound  minutely,  and  concluded  that  it  was  necessary  for  my 
leg  to  be  cut  off  in  order  to  save  my  life.  When  I  heard  their 


124 


A  CHECKERED  LIPE. 


conclusion  I  protested,  and  stated  to  the  old  German  surgeon 
in  charge  that  I  preferred  death  to  being  a  permanent  cripple, 
and  if  he  could  not  cut  and  burn  out  the  gangrene  matter 
without  taking  off  my  leg,  he  might  allow  nature  and  death 
full  swing. 

I  was  finally  placed  on  a  dissecting  table,  with  half  a  dozen 
doctors  around  the  board,  ready  and  willing  to  carve  me  up 
with  neatness  and  dispatch.  I  would  not  take  the  chloroform 
until  promised  by  a  young  surgeon,  named  Walker,  that  my 
leg  should  not  be  cut  off.  They  finally  cut  into  the  wound, 
and  found  the  bone  had  only  been  splintered,  and  the  nerves 
and  muscles  but  lacerated.  After  two  hours  I  woke  up,  and 
found  myself  lying  on  a  cot  in  ward  "  A,"  among  a  number  of 
wounded  officers,  and  strange  to  say,  out  of  ten  in  the  room, 
eight  belonged  to  the  staff  of  the  army.  For  about  a  month 
I  suffered  great  pain.  I  was  then  transported  to  Louisville, 
and  admitted  to  the  officers'  hospital,  superintended  by  Doc- 
tor Brady,  a  gentleman  of  fine  ability  and  great  kindness  of 
heart. 

During  the  entire  month  of  September,  1864,  I  remained  in 
the  hospital,  and  towards  the  early  days  of  October,  I  began  to 
recuperate  my  strength,  feeling  well  enough  to  walk  about  the 
hall  and  wards  on  crutches. 

About  the  last  of  October  I  was  discharged  from  the  hospi- 
tal, and  went  to  Lexington,  Kentucky,  to  perform  convales- 
cent duty  on  the  staff  of  General  N.  C.  McLean,  to  enable  me 
to  receive  further  treatment  for  my  gun-shot  wound.  I  re- 
mained but  a  short  time  in  this  position,  assisting  Adjutant- 
General  J.  S.  Butler  in  the  performance  of  his  official  duty. 

I  was  recovering  my  strength  very  fast,  and  as  I  had  been 
absent  from  the  24th  more  than  four  months,  I  began  to  think 
of  leaving  the  service  to  give  some  ambitious  officer  of  any 
regiment  a  chance  for  promotion.  While  in  this  state  of  un- 
certainty, the  following  order  was  received  from  the  War  De- 
partment, which  resolved  my  doubts  and  promptly  settled  my 
anxieties : 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE.  125 

War  Department,  Adjutant  General's  Office, 

Washington,  D.  C.,  Nov.  4th,  1864. 
SPECIAL  ORDER,  \ 

No.  383.        J  "  Extract." 

The  following  officers  are  hereby  honorably  discharged  from  the  service 
of  the  United  States,  on  account  of  physical  disability  from  wounds  received 
in  action,  with  condition  that  they  shall  receive  no  final  payment  until  they 
have  satisfied  the  Pay  Department  that  they  are  not  indebted  to  the  Gov- 
ernment. 

ist  Lieut.  John  A.  Joyce,  Adjutant  24th  Kentucky  Infantry  Volunteers. 
By  order  of  the  Secretary  of  War. 

E.  D.  TOWNSEND, 

Assistant  Adjutant  General. 

I  had  no  financial  complications  or  indebtedness  with  the 
Government,  and  Paymaster  A.  Diven,  at  Louisville,  paid  my 
back  dues  on  the  25th  of  November,  1864,  when  I  left  the  ser- 
vice of  the  United  States  with  an  honorable  record. 

While  in  Louisville  I  became  personally  acquainted  with 
Gov.  Thomas  E.  Bramblette,  who  was  organizing  some  new 
regiments  to  take  the  field,  and  wished  to  commission  me. 
I  had  previously  secured  some  recommendations  for  the  posi- 
tion of  Colonel  of  one  of  these  new  regiments,  and  as  an  evi- 
dence of  the  opinion  of  my  superior  officers  and  kind  friends, 
submit  the  following  extracts. 

Gen.  Daniel  Cameron,  commanding  the  3d  Division,  23d 
Army  Corps,  says  to  Gov.  Bramblette  : 

"  I  beg  respectfully  to  address  you  in  relation  to  Lieut.  Joyce,  Adjutant 
24th  Ky .  Infantry.  He  has  been  for  some  months  past  under  my  command , 
and  I  have  had  many  opportunities  of  observing  his  efficiency  as  an  officer. 
I  consider  him  a  young  officer  of  great  merit,  well  worthy  of  promotion.  He 
is  brave,  energetic  and  capable,  has  had  much  experience,  and  on  all  occa- 
sions has  acquitted  himself  to  the  entire  satisfaction  of  his  superiors. 

In  bringing  his  claims  before  your  Excellency,  I  feel  that  I  am  but  doing 
justice  to  Lieut.  Joyce,  while  I  am  at  the  same  time  promoting  the  interests 
of  one  who  is  an  honor  to  his  state  and  to  the  service." 

Gen.  Milo  S.  Hascall,  commanding  the  2d  Division  23d 
Army  Corps,  says  to  the  Governor : 

"  It  affords  me  great  pleasure  to  recommend  to  your  favorable  consider- 
ation, for  promotion,  ist  Lieut,  and  Adjutant  John  A.  Joyce,  24th  Reg't  Ky. 


126  A  CHECKERED  LIFE. 

V.  I.  He  has  been  in  my  command  for  some  time,  and  I  have  had  oppor- 
tunities on  several  occasions  to  notice  his  great  bravery  and  efficiency  as  an 
officer.  He  is  now  absent  from  his  regiment,  suffering  from  a  severe  wound. 
The  term  of  service  of  his  regiment  has  about  expired.  Anything  you  can 
do  for  him  will  be  considered  a  great  favor." 

Gen.  J.  D.  Cox,  commanding  the  23d  Army  Corps,  says  in 
his  endorsement  : 

"  I  take  pleasure  in  adding  to  the  within  testimonial  the  statement  that 
Lieut.  Joyce  distinguished  himself  in  the  early  part  of  the  Atlanta  campaign, 
at  Kenesaw  Mountain,  where  he  was  wounded,  and  has  since  been  off  duty 
in  consequence.  I  cordially  endorse  the  statement  of  General  Cameron  as 
to  his  efficiency  and  good  qualities  as  an  officer,  and  recommend  that  Lieut. 
Joyce's  services  be  recognized  by  the  state  of  Kentucky  in  some  fitting 
manner." 

Major-Gen.  S.  G.  Burbridge,  commanding  the  district  of 
Kentucky,  says : 

"  It  gives  me  pleasure  to  endorse  Lieut.  Joyce,  Adjutant  24th  Ky.,  for 
any  position  in  the  gift  of  the  Governor.  He  is  anxious  to  enter  the  service 
again,  as  Colonel  of  one  of  the  new  regiments,  and  if  you  can  accommo- 
date him,  it  will  be  a  favor  conferred  upon  a  young  man  who  has  nobly 
served  his  country,  and  bears  the  wounds  of  battle  upon  his  person." 

The  Board  of  Military  Enrollment  for  the  Fifth  Congres- 
sional District  of  Kentucky,  composed  of  Murch,  Hervey  and 
Dr.  T.  S.  Bell,  say : 

"  We  cordially  urge  the  strong  claims  of  Adjutant  Joyce  as  a  faithful  so.- 
dier  and  excellent  and  worthy  officer,  who  has  been  crippled  in  the  military 
service,  and  is  a  young  man  of  fine  capacity.  He  is  worthy  of  any  favor 
that  can  be  conferred  upon  him." 

Dr.  J.  Gardner,  Assistant  Surgeon  of  the  Board,  says : 
"  I  have  personally  served  with  Adjutant  Joyce,  and  do  not  know  any 
person  who  deserves  more  favor  than  he  does." 

Hon.  James  Speed,  the  most  distinguished  lawyer  in  Ken- 
tucky, and  Attorney-General  under  President  Lincoln,  says : 
"  I  trust  that  the  place  desired  will  be  given  to  Mr.  Joyce." 

Col  Hurt,  of  the  24th,  gave  me  a  very  complimentary  letter 
to  Governor  Bramblette,  wherein  he  praised  my  capacity  and 
bravery,  and  remarked  that  I  was  well  fitted  for  the  position 
of  a  Field  Officer. 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE. 


127 


The  term  of  the  24th  was  so  nearly  completed  that  I  hesi- 
tated about  going  back  to  the  regiment,  but  had  an  ambition 
to  continue  in  the  military  service,  where  daring  action  might 
throw  about  me  "  the  perfume  of  heroic  deeds." 

When  the  goal  of  my  ambition  was  about  to  be  reached,  I 
discovered  that  my  wound  was  too  tender  to  allow  me  to  take 
the  field  on  horseback,  and  therefore  was  compelled  to  relin- 
quish the  fond  hopes  I  had  cherished,  and  bid  farewell  to  the 
fascinations  of  military  life. 

About  the  last  of  December,  1864,  I  visited  the  24th  Ky., 
camped  at  Covington,  awaiting  final  muster  out.  The  regi- 
ment had  come  up  from  Atlanta,  spent  a  few  days  at  Mt.  Ster- 
ling, proceeding  from  there  to  Covington,  where  final  disposi- 
tion could  be  made  of  men  and  material.  The  old  regiment 
had  been  greatly  depleted,  and  many  of  the  boys  who  enlisted 
with  me  in  the  early  days  of  war  were  sleeping  their  last  sleep 
on  the  sunny  slopes  of  Tennessee,  Alabama  and  Georgia,  or 
limping  their  weary  way  to  the  tomb  amid  the  hills  and  vales 
of  their  mountain  homes. 

I  remained  at  the  Burnet  House  about  a  week,  being  cheered 
in  the  evening  by  Hurt,  North,  Nelson,  Gill  and  Mclntyre, 
who  came  from  the  regiment  to  pass  a  few  hours  of  pleasure 
•among  the  delicious  allurements  of  the  Queen  City. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

LEAVING  THE  ARMY. — EXPERIENCE  AS  A.  SCHOOL-TEACHER. 

On  the  ist  of  January  I  bid  good-bye  to  the  old  24th,  never 
again  to  mingle  with  it  in  the  rush  of  battle,  or  join  in  its 
cheer  of  victory.  Mountain,  valley,  stream,  camp  and  battle- 
field were  left  behind  to  my  comrades  who  fell  in  the  roaring 
fray ;  and  while  the  birds  sang  as  sweetly,  the  rivers  ran  as 
freely,  and  the  flowers  bloomed  as  brightly,  they  would  never 
again  awaken  heroic  melodies  in  the  hearts  of  those  daring 
warriors  who  went  down  in  the  shock  and  crash  of  battle. 

To  comrades  who  have  survived  the  pangs  of  hospital  treat- 
ment and  the  shock  of  war,  I  send  forth  greeting,  and  say  that 
while  life  lingers  we  cannot  forget  the  glory  and  renown  of  the 
old  24th,  whose  flag  rose  triumphant  on  many  a  battle-field, 
and  whose  record  for  daring  deeds  may  be  equaled  but  can- 
not be  surpassed  by  any  regiment  that  served  the  government. 

The  24th  Kentucky  was  organized  in  the  very  face  of  treason. 
It  defied  relatives  and  friends  for  the  sake  of  the  Union,  fought 
in  front  when  loved  ones  at  home  were  being  destroyed  by  the 
enemy,  skirmished  on  the  advanced  dead-lines  of  brigades, 
divisions  and  corps  as  an  entering  wedge  to  victory,  marched 
by  road,  rail  and  boat  more  miles  than  any  other  regiment  in 
the  service,  and  at  last  furled  forever  the  torn  and  blood-stained 
flag  to  rest  with  the  archives  of  a  state  saved  to  the  Union  by 
its  valor. 

To  every  soldier  in  every  land,  and  in  every  good  cause,  I 
extend  a  heart  and  hand,  whether  or  not  we  kneel  at  the  same 
altar  or  worship  the  same  God. 

128 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE. 


129 


Fame,  like  the  soul,  is  immortal. 

"  The  stars  shall  fade  away,  the  sun  himself 
Grow  dim  with  age,  and  nature  sink  in  years ; 
But  thou  shall  flourish  in  immortal  youth, 
Unhurt  amidst  the  war  of  elements, 
The  wreck  of  matter,  and  the  crash  of  worlds." 

The  unsettled  state  of  society  in  my  old  Kentucky  home 
induced  me  to  accept  an  invitation  to  visit  an  uncle  who  lived 
in  Allamakee  county,  Iowa. 

The  .winter  of  1865  was  very  severe  in  the  North-west.  A 
few  quite  frigid  days  among  the  rugged,  snow-capped  hills  of 
Allamakcc  made  me  wish  for  the  warm  rays  of  the  sunny  South, 
and  the  genial  smiles  of  those  dear  army-friends  I  left  behind. 
I  was  about  to  leave  the  Hawkeye  State  in  disgust  at  the  cold 
reception  nature  extended,  when  my  uncle  and  family  suggested 
that  I  should  procure  a  country  school,  and  turn  my  mind  away 
from  brooding  over  the  past. 

SCHOOL-TEACHER. 

1  concluded  to  make  application  for  a  school  located  at 
Paint-Rock  Church,  overlooking  the  waters  of  the  Mississippi 
River,  and  within  a  mile  of  Harper's  Ferry,  a  small  town  in 
the  southeastern  part  of  the  county. 

The  trustee  of  the  school,  Barry,  was  willing  that  I  should 
enter  upon  the  duties  of  teacher  at  once,  but  a  certificate  must 
first  be  procured  from  the  county  superintendent,  whose  office 
was  located  at  Waukon,  the  county  seat,  fifteen  miles  away. 
I  easily  procured  the  needed  certificate. 

Being  now  armed  with  official  authority,  I  presented  myself 
at  the  new  stone  school-house  one  blue  Monday  morning  in 
January,  1865,  and  began  the  role  of  a  country  pedagogue. 

Arriving  early  in  the  morning  from  Harper's  Ferry,  I  un- 
locked the  establishment,  and  found  nothing  but  cheerless 
walls,  damp  and  musty.  A  few  benches  were  scattered  about 
the  room,  and  a  pine  desk  was  stuck  in  one  corner  to  accom- 
modate the  presiding  autocrat.  An  old  Franklin  stove,  that 

9 


I3o  -/   CHECKERED  LIFE. 

might  have  warmed  its  namesake  in  the  Revolutionary  War, 
opened  its  broad  jaws  for  the  reception  of  fuel.  The  wood- 
pile outside  was  unchopped.  As  some  of  the  "  big  boys" 
gathered  in,  I  advised  them  to  procure  an  axe  from  one  of  the 
neighbors,  and  split  enough  wood  to  dispel  the  cold  and  frost 
that  had  settled  on  the  stone  wall,  and  even  fringed  the  "  Old 
Franklin  "  with  fantastic  embellishments.  After  digging  about 
in  three  feet  of  snow  that  surronnded  the  wood-pile  and  school- 
house,  we  finally  fished  out  enough  to  make  a  roaring  fire,  and 
warm  the  shivering  children  that  vied  with  each  other  in  scorch- 
ing their  clothes  in  an  effort  to  straddle  the  stove. 

When  nine  o'clock  arrived  I  rang  the  bell  with  the  air  of  a 
sucessful  auctioneer ;  keeping  a  stern  face,  that  would  have 
done  great  credit  to  a  philosopher  of  sixty,  much  more  to  a 
youth  of  twenty-two,  who  had  just  launched  out  as  an  educator. 

When  silence  prevailed  I  rose  at  the  desk,  and  addressed  the 
seventy-five  scholars  who  came  from  the  snow-clad  farms  of 
Allamakee. 

I  merely  said  that  I  had  been  employed  by  the  trustees  to 
teach  the  school  for  a  period  of  six  months,  and  hoped  that  the 
boys  would  behave  like  gentlemen,  and  the  girls  act  like  ladies. 
In  conclusion,  I  had  only  to  lay  down  the  simple  rule  that 
when  they  did  right  I  should  reward  them,  and  when  they  did 
wrong  I  should  certainly  punish  them. 

These  remarks  were  taken  by  the  younger  children  with  hu- 
mility, but  a  few  of  the  larger  boys  winked  at  each  other,  as 
much  as  to  say,  "  That's  an  old  gag,  that  can't  frighten  scholars 
who  have  ducked  bigger  teachers  than  you  are.  It  might  be 
well  to  give  that  speech  to  the  '  marines,'  but  for  the  stalwart 
sons  of  Erin  living  among  the  grubs  of  Allamakee  it  will  not 
do;  the  colors  of  your  eloquence  will  not  wash  !"  Notwith- 
standing this  imagined  reply  to  my  first  and  last  effort  as  a 
teacher,  I  proceeded  at  once  to  bring  order  out  of  chaos,  and 
class  the  school. 

The  third  day  of  my  mission  brought  about  a  free  fight 
among  the  scholars  during  my  absence  at  dinner.  When  school 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE.  !3i 

was  called,  I  proceeded  to  ascertain  the  cause  of  the  row. 
It  seems  that  a  son  of  Erin  and  a  waif  from  the  Fatherland 
disputed  about  the  honor  and  bravery  of  their  respective  ances- 
tors, and  the  other  scholars  joined  in  the  fight,  with  a  clannish 
spirit  that  would  have  been  an  honor  to  the  bogs  of  Ireland 
or  the  upland  slopes  of  Scotland.  After  due  investigation,  I 
implicated  only  seventeen  boys  and  girls  in  the  fight,  sending 
the  residue  of  my  institution  to  their  seats  and  books.  When 
all  was  ready,  I  went  to  business  with  a  fine  hickory  ruler  that 
had  been  provided  in  anticipation  of  just  such  troubles.  The 
smaller  scholars  took  their  light  punishment  with  suppressed 
sobs,  and  went  to  their  benches  with  sulks.  The  leader  of  the 
riot  was  the  only  one  who  attempted  to  resist,  and  treat  my 
proposal  to  whip  him  with  contempt.  I  reasoned  with  the 
stalwart  Hibernian,  impressing  upon  him  his  violation  of  school 
rules,  and  my  intention  to  have  equality  of  punishment.  He 
finally  squared  off,  swore  with  the  swagger  of  a  prize-fighter,  but 
ere  he  could  execute  his  threat  I  hit  him  with  the  rule  just  un- 
der the  ear,  and  sent  him  to  the  floor  in  a  shiver  of  pain.  A 
dipper  of  water  brought  him  to,  in  tears,  when  I  finished  his 
punishment  by  additional  blows  on  his  hands,  sending  him  to 
his  seat  as  if  nothing  had  occurred  to  disturb  the  equanimity 
of  the  school. 

From  that  day  to  the  close  of  my  term  in  June  I  was  boss 
of  the  institution,  and  had  no  further  occasion  to  punish  any 
of  the  scholars.  When  the  examination  and  exhibition  closed 
on  the  last  day,  scholars,  parents  and  friends  left  me  with 
thanks,  praise  and  tears ;  and  many  of  my  dear  old  pupils  will 
remember  to  this  day  the  pleasant  hours  and  loving  chats  we 
had  under  the  noon-day  shade  of  Paint-Rock  Church,  and  the 
delightful  strolls  we  took  among  those  rugged  hills  and  bloom- 
ing vales. 

My  experience  as  a  village  schoolmaster  will  long  be  re- 
membered ;  and  the  beautiful  site  of  the  school,  church  and 
graveyard  was  all  that  the  most  romantic  heart  could  require. 
Situated  on  a  high  hill,  overlooking  the  rolling  plains  to  the 


l$2  A  CHECKERED  LIFE. 

west,  and  commanding  a  view  to  the  south  and  east,  with  the 
waters  of  the  Mississippi  sweeping  along  to  the  sea,  it  was  no 
wonder  that  my  young  heart  swelled  with  emotion  when  con- 
templating the  beauty  of  the  landscape.  How  often  hdve  I 
lingered  in  the  tangled  walks  of  the  old  church-yard,  under 
a  spreading  oak,  and  gazed  in  rapture  at  the  golden  glory  of 
the  setting  sun,  as  the  storm-crouds  in  the  west  swept  across 
the  cardinal  colors  of  the  day.  My  pathway  through  woods 
and  fields  was  made  radiant  with  boys  and  girls.  Sleigh- rides, 
parties  and  occasional  balls  at  Harper's  Ferry,  intervened  to 
banish  the  monotony  of  country  life,  and  while  I  kept  the  face 
of  a  stern  philosopher  in  the  school-room,  I  acted  with  all  the 
vanity  and  freedom  of  a  drum-major  in  the  ball-room. 

Spelling-matches  at  the  country  schools  were  occasions  for 
fun,  and  opportunities  for  the  belles  and  beaux  to  indulge  in 
the  never-ceasingeccentricities  of  Cupid,  who  shoots  his  arrows 
where  least  expected,  inflicting  wounds  that  never  heal,  and  ro- 
mantic pangs  that  never  die. 

My  patrons  and  scholars  insisted  that  I  should  give  a  spell- 
ing-match at  the  old  school-house,  and  as  I  was  always  ready 
and  willing  to  indulge  the  love  of  sociability,  I  readily  con- 
sented to  the  proposition.  The  evening  arrived,  and  with  it 
came  more  than  a  hundred  of  the  neighbors  and  their  children, 
anxious  to  battle  for  the  mastery  in  spelling  ;  after  which, 
dancing  was  indulged  in  to  the  great  satisfaction  of  all  present. 

A  match  was  soon  arranged  by  two  rural  beauties,  who 
tossed  up  for  the  first  choice  of  spellers.  I  was  chosen  by  one 
of  the  contestants,  and  so  it  went  on  to  the  end  of  the  pro- 
gramme, when  two  lines  of  warlike  intellects  stood  facing  each 
other  for  battle.  The  person  who  missed  stepped  down  and 
out,  and  the  one  that  remained  on  the  floor  to  the  last  carried 
off  the  prize,  and  became  the  noted  champion  of  the  evening. 
After  the  first  round,  a  simple  word  was  given  to  me  by  the 
umpire,  and  ludicrous  to  relate,  I  went  down  by  the  first  shot, 
retiring  to  one  of  the  benches  amid  the  laughter  of  the  whole 
audience. 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE.  !33 

A  beautiful  young  girl  of  fifteen  carried  off  the  prize,  receiv- 
ing the  encomiums  of  the  whole  house  for  her  remarkable 
memory  and  precise  information.  I  know  it  is  inexcusable  for 
a  man  of  education  to  be  a  bad  speller ;  but,  even  to  this  day, 
I  am  liable  to  insult  the  memory  of  Noah  Webster,  and  even 
rattle  the  bones  of  Lindley  Murray  in  violating  his  rule  that  a 
verb  must  agree  with  its  nominative  in  number,  person  and  case. 

The  schoolmaster  is  a  wonderful  man  among  yeomanry,  and 
the  greatness  of  Goldsmith's  pedagogue  may  well  illustrate  his 
rural  renown  : 

"  The  village  all  declared  how  much  he  knew, 
'Twas  certain  he  could  write  and  cipher  too; 
Lands  he  could  measure,  terms  and  tides  presage, 
And  even  the  story  ran  that  he  could  gauge; 
In  arguing,  too,  the  parson  owned  his  skill, 
For  e'en  though  vanquished,  he  could  argue  still; 
While  words  of  learned  length  and  thundering  sound 
Amazed  the  gazing  rustics  ranged  around; 
And  still  they  gazed,  and  still  the  wonder  grew 
That  one  small  head  should  carry  all  he  knew." 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

TAX-COLLECTOR    AND    CANDIDATE    FOR    LEGISLATURE. 

At  the  conclusion  of  my  school  I  went  to  Lansing,  and 
through  the  instrumentality  of  the  county  treasurer,  a  shrewd 
and  pleasant  gentleman,  was  employed  to  collect  delinquent 
taxes,  long  due  by  the  rustic  citizens  of  Franklin  and  Linton 
townships.  With  the  necessary  books  and  a  commission  as 
deputy  collector,  I  took  up  my  headquarters  at  the  village  of 
Volney,  and  advertised  that  I  was  ready  and  willing  to  collect 
delinquent  taxes.  I  waited  for  my  pronunciamento  to  take 
effect,  but  as  the  good  people  did  not  rush  frantically  from  the 
hills  and  valleys  in  response  to  my  call,  I  concluded  to  go  to 
the  mountain,  since  the  mountain  would  not  come  to  me. 

The  life  of  a  delinquent  tax-collector  is  not  a  happy  one — 
particularly  where  the  ground  has  been  worked  over  for  ten 
years  by  ambitious  deputies.  The  doctor  is  looked  upon  with 
fear  and  anxiety  by  his  patient ;  the  lawyer  is  tolerated  with 
hope  and  suspicion  by  his  client ;  the  undertaker  comes  with  a 
melancholy  face  to  perform  the  last  sad  duty  for  mankind  ;  but 
the  delinquent  tax  collector  is  looked  upon  in  his  official  capac- 
ity as  a  combination  of  all  the  horrors — a  pest  to  be  avoided 
and  a  nuisance  to  be  abated. 

I  spent  the  month  of  July,  1865,  among  the  hills  of  Yellow 
River,  coaxing  and  threatening  the  good  people  with  penalties 
unless  they  paid  the  real  and  personal  taxes  demanded  in  the 
name  of  the  Hawk-eye  State,  and  was  unusually  successful  in 
securing  the  payment  of  taxes  that  had  slumbered  for  many 
years.  I  shall  never  forget  the  bold  move  I  made  on  an  old 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE. 


'35 


Irish  bachelor  who  lived  like  an  anchorite  on  a  forty-acre  farm 
perched  on  a  rugged  height  overlooking  Yellow  River.  He 
owed  the  state  of  Iowa  about  fifty  dollars,  but  had  for  more 
than  ten  years  evaded  every  tax-collector  who  came  to  the 
neighborhood.  They  could  never  find  him  at  home  when  en- 
deavoring to  give  the  notice  of  levy,  and  although  the  deputies 
often  climbed  the  bluffs  in  pursuit  of  the  delinquent,  they  never 
succeeded  in  getting  the  taxes. 

Duly  armed  with  my  legal  documents  and  an  army  "  pepper- 
box," I  started  away  one  bright  morning  through  the  crooked 
defiles  leading  out  from  Volney,  and  began  to  climb  the  heights 
reaching  to  the  lands  of  the  fierce  old  bachelor.  I  imagined 
myself  for  awhile  in  the  highlands  of  Scotland  or  among  the 
heather  mountains  of  Ireland,  in  search  of  some  bold  outlaws 
who  worked  the  secrets  of  the  still.  While  thus  musing,  in 
contemplation  wild,  I  beheld  a  curl  of  smoke  rising  out  of  a 
clump  of  trees,  and  saw  a  yoke  of  oxen  grazing  near  a  corn- 
field in  the  vicinity  of  the  old  bachelor's  cabin.  I  let  down 
a  pair  of  bars,  turned  the  cattle  into  the  corn-field,  and  awaited 
developments.  The  joy  of  the  cattle  was  great  while  crunch- 
ing the  young  corn,  and  all  went  merry  as  a  marriage-bell  until 
the  old  bachelor  rushed  from  his  cabin,  bare  headed  and  yell- 
ing like  a  trooper  at  the  oxen.  The  thought  of  saving  his 
crop  made  him  oblivious  of  my  presence.  As  he  rushed  by 
me  in  his  flight  after  the  cattle,  I  cried,  "  Halt !  "  He  looked 
at  me  with  a  gaze  of  astonishment,  showing  all  the  rage  of  a 
trapped  lion.  I  at  once  made  known  my  business,  and  with 
the  legal  documents  in  one  hand  and  a  revolver  in  the  other, 
served  due  notice  on  the  delinquent,  levied  on  his  yoke  of 
oxen  to  satisfy  the  debt,  and  thus,  with  the  air  of  a  victorious 
general,  maintained  the  majesty  of  the  law  and  sustained  the 
honor  of  Iowa,  while  threatening  to  blow  off  the  head-piece 
of  the  citizen  if  he  dared  to  decline  my  demand  or  interfere 
with  me  in  the  execution  of  my  office. 

When  he  realized  the  trap  he  had  fallen  into,  and  saw  me 
drive  off  his  cattle,  he  immediately  sued  for  quarter ;  and  be- 


I36  A  CHECKERED  LlfiE. 

fore  I  got  back  to  Volney  he  had  caught  up  with  me  and  ten- 
tered  the  taxes  with  all  penalties  and  costs  attached.  I  gave 
the  old  fellow  his  receipt  in  full,  released  the  oxen,  shook  his 
hand,  bade  him  be  virtuous  and  consequently  happy ;  and  I 
have  no  doubt  but  that  the  lesson  he  received  gave  him  greater 
respect  for  human  laws,  and  a  wise  discrimination  to  know  that 
a  legal  document,  backed  up  by  a  pistol,  is  not  to  be  ignored. 
My  duties  as  a  tax-gatherer  soon  ceased,  and  after  deducting 
my  per  cent.,  I  turned  in  the  balance  to  the  treasurer  of  Alla- 

makee  county. 

*  * 

I  had  often  heard  that  it  was  sweet  to  die  for  one's  country  ; 
and  as  my  soul  was  filled  with  hope  and  poetry,  I  concluded 
to  cast  my  drag-net  into  the  Republican  county  convention 
that  assembled  at  Waukon  on  the  igih  of  August,  1865. 

After  a  laborious  campaign  among  the  primary  caucuses, 
making  all  the  promises  incident  to  the  canvass  of  a  congress- 
man, assuring  the  honest  voters  that  they  were  the  salt  of  the 
earth,  and  I  but  the  humble  instrument  to  wait  for  and  record 
their  will,  the  convention  met,  and  I  received  a  unanimous 
vote  as  candidate  for  the  legislature.  As  this  high  honor  came 
unsought  (?)  to  a  young  man  of  twenty-two  who  had  lived  in 
the  county  scarcely  a  year,  I  could  do  nothing  else  but  accept 
in  a  modest  (?)  speech,  expressing  the  usual  surprise,  and  inform- 
ing the  convention  of  my  unworthiness  ;  then  soaring  aloft  in 
the  realms  of  native  eloquence,  I  pledged  undying  love  to  the 
principles  of  the  Republican  party,  and  proposed  to  bear  onward 
the  standard  of  freedom  until  the  election  sunset  of  October 
shone  pure  and  bright  upon  the  victorious  folds  of  the  star- 
spangled  banner  planted  upon  the  crumbling  ramparts  of  dem- 
ocracy ! 

I  made  a  joint  canvass  with  the  democratic  nominee,  who 
was  more  than  fifty  years  of  age — an  old  stager  who  could 
change  his  political  opinions  with  as  much  ease  and  facility  as 
a  diver  changes  his  suit.  I  talked  to  the  county  statesmen 
with  the  air  of  a  Bolingbroke  or  Pitt,  and  imagined,  until  the 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE. 


137 


votes  were  counted,  that  Jefferson,  Lincoln  and  Douglas  were 
poor  sticks  in  comparison  with  my  growing  greatness  and  the 
glorious  renown  that  awaited  me  in  the  halls  of  legislation  at 
Des  Moines.  I  made  a  speech  in  every  township  in  Allamakee 
county,  and  had  bills  posted  up  at  stores  and  cross-roads,  in 
advance  of  my  coming. 

It  was  during  the  campaign  of  1865,  at  Waukon,  that  I  first 
met  Hon.  William  B.  Allison  on  his  congressional  tour  through 
the  third  district  of  Iowa.  A  joint  discussion  was  in  progress 
at  the  court-house,  when  we  consented  to  divide  time  with 
the  Congressman,  and  give  him  a  chance  to  enlighten  the  citi- 
zens of  Iowa  regarding  the  propriety  of  striking  the  word 
"  white  "  out  of  its  constitution,  thereby  admitting  to  the  bal- 
lot-box all  male  citizens  twenty-one  years  of  age,  irrespective 
of  color  or  previous  condition  of  servitude.  Mr.  Allison  con- 
sumed about  an  hour  in  the  delivery  of  his  speech,  which  was 
logical  and  sound. 

My  opponent,  Paulk,  followed  the  congressman  in  a  very 
good  speech  from  his  stand-point.  The  old  gentleman  ignored 
my  presence  altogether.  I  arose  to  close  the  debate,  and 
launched  in  with  the  fire  and  audacity  of  youth,  belaboring  the 
stay-at-home,  peace-at-any-price  crowd. 

The  day  after  the  vote  was  announced,  having  lost  all  my 
enthusiasm  in  the  election,  I  embarked  on  the  fine  steamer 
Gray  Eagle  at  Lansing,  and  proceeded  to  the  city  of  Dubuque. 
Standing  on  the  hurricane  deck  of  the  steamer  as  she  swept 
away  from  the  wharf,  and  rounded  toward  the  bald  bluff  of 
South  Lansing,  I  breathed  a  sigh  of  regret  at  leaving  relatives, 
pupils  and  friends,  where  youth  and  love  had  mingled  in  the 
scene,  and  confidence  and  ambition  cast  a  glow  of  supreme 
happiness  through  the  halls  of  memory.  Some  very  dear  friends 
are  yet  living  in  Iowa,  who  may  call  to  mind  the  scenes  I  have 
depicted  ;  and,  perhaps,  in  the  evening  twilight,  when  the  walk- 
ing shadows  of  night  climb  the  river  bluffs,  they  may  recount 
to  their  children  and  friends  the  romantic  career  of  a  country 
pedagogue  and  would-be  legislator. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

STUDYING   LAW    IN    DUBUQUE. 

Arriving  in  Dubuque,  I  called  at  the  law  office  of  Mr.  Alli- 
son, the  Congressman  I  met  in  the  late  canvass.  I  told  him 
of  my  desire  to  continue  the  study  of  law,  which  had  been  in- 
terrupted by  the  war.  He  at  once  secured  me  a  clerkship  in 
the  office  of  Hon.  Henry  A.  Wiltz,  the  United  States  surveyor- 
general  for  Iowa  and  Wisconsin,  at  the  same  time  tendering  the 
use  of  his  books  and  office. 

I  spent  the  winter  of  1866  and  the  summer  and  fall  of  the 
same  year  in  diligent  study  of  the  law,  pondering  on  the  wis- 
dom of  Blackstone,  Chitty,  Kent,  Parsons  and  Greenleaf,  with 
all  the  enthusiasm  of  youth  and  ambition  ;  receiving  my  license 
to  practice  as  an  attorney  in  the  courts  of  Iowa,  on  the  nth 
of  November. 

The  memories  that  cluster  about  Dubuque  can  never  be  for- 
gotten, and  the  friends  that  assisted  me  in  the  old  Julian  build- 
ing in  the  study  of  law  present  themselves  to-day  in  the  form 
and  appearance  of  yesterday. 

Mr.  George  Crane  and  Captain  T.  Palmer  Rood  were  the 
law  partners  of  Mr.  Allison,  and  while  he  was  mostly  engrossed 
in  political  calculations,  they  attended  strictly  to  the  details  and 
work  of  an  important  law  firm.  Mr.  Crane  was  a  man  of  fine 
judgment,  and  had  the  entire  confidence  of  his  clients,  and  the 
respect  of  the  bar,  which  numbered  some  of  the  best  lawyers  in 
Iowa,  such  as  Bissell,  Shiras,  Adams,  Mtilkern,  Samuels,  Knight, 
Wilson,  Cram,  Henderson,  Cooley,  O'Donnell  and  a  rare 
genius  named  Charles  McKenzie. 

138 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE. 

Captain  T.  Palmer  Rood,  the  junior  member  of  the  firm,  was 
my  daily  and  nightly  companion  ;  and  often  in  the  lonely  mid- 
night hours,  when  lessons  had  been  recited,  he  would  talk  of 
love  and  friends  in  the  Empire  State,  and  wind  up  our  mutual 
joy  by  throwing  his  soul  into  his  magic  flute,  in  a  symphony 
from  Beethoven,  a  trill  from  the  mocking  bird  or  a  warbling 
note  from  the  matchless  air  of  "  Home,  Sweet  Home,"  while  I 
joined  in  the  sweet  words  of  John  Howard  Payne  : 

"  An  exile  from  home,  splendor  dazzles  in  vain, 
Oh,  give  me  my  lowly  thatched  cottage  again." 

These  sentiments  would  often  take  possession  of  Rood's- 
mind,  and  on  the  airy  wings  of  fancy  he  wandered  back  to  the 
home  of  his  childhood,  and  lived  again  in  the  love  of  his  first 
conquest.  Philosophic  conversations  were  frequently  indulged 
in — birth,  life  and  death  claiming  our  consideration.  Ire- 
member  well  a  conversation  we  had  upon  the  reason  and  justice 
of  suicide ;  he  taking  the  ground  that  a  man  had  the  right  to 
destroy  himself  because  God  gave  him  the  power  to  do  it.  It 
was  hard  to  combat  this  logic,  bu,t  I  appealed  to  his  honor  and 
bravery,  arguing  that  it  was  nobler  to  live  and  battle  with  a 
frowning  world  than  take  a  leap  in  the  dark  and  blot  out  the 
ills  that  flesh  is  heir  to.  I  insisted  that  no  man  in  his  sane 
mind  could  commit  suicide,  for  the  inherent  principle  of  self- 
preservation  revolted  at  the  thought ;  while  he  felt  satisfied 
that  a  troubled,  but  sound,  mind  could  take  nature  by  the 
throat,  and  end  the  horrid  phantoms  that  came  like  brooding 
shadows. 

Rood  was  of  a  rather  melancholy  and  sensitive  nature,  and 
the  very  soul  of  honor  in  his  dealings  with  the  world.  He  was 
neat  in  dress,  choice  in  his  associates,  and  bore  some  secret 
sorrow  that  I  could  not  fathom.  I  introduced  him  to  a  beau- 
tiful and  accomplished  young  lady,  who  afterwards  became  his 
wife,  and  bore  him  a  fine  son. 

I  left  Dubuqtie  in  November,  1866,  for  Washington  city,  and 
although  our  lines  were  cast  in  different  places,  we  kept  up  a- 


1  40 


A  CHECKERED 


friendly  correspondence  until  he  committed  suicide  on  the 
closing  night  of  December,  1879,  when  his  sensitive  and  poetic 
spirit  took  flight  into  the  new  year. 

The  night  of  his  suicide  he  left  his  home  for  a  festival  among 
his  friends,  kissed  his  wife  and  boy  a  last  good-bye,  departed 
with  seeming  gladness  for  the  halls  of  revelry,  dressed  in  fault- 
less style,  without  a  known  cause  to  ruffle  the  equanimity  of 
his  soul  ;  and  in  the  morning  sunshine  anxious  friends  found 
him  dead  in  his  law-office,  propped  back  in  an  arm-chair,  the 
victim  of  chloroform  administered  by  his  own  hand. 

On  the  outside  of  his  locked  door  the  searchers  found  a  card 
bearing  this  laconic  announcement  :  "  Gone  —  Rood  !"  On  the 
desk,  near  his  chair,  the  following  pathetic  note  to  his  wife 
and  boy  were  found  as  testimony  of  the  tortured  brain  that 
could  act  no  longer,  or  battle  with  the  disappointments  and 
rude  tempests  the  world  inflicted  : 

ANGIE  AND  WILLIE. 

DUBUQUE,  IOWA,  Dec.  31,  1879. 
Dear  Angie,  Dear  Willie  : 

Oh  !  how  I  have  suffered  in  my  head.     I  am  going 
to  rest  to-morrow  ! 

Your  affectionate  husband  and  father. 

Who  can  ever  know  the  pangs  of  melancholy,  regret,  re- 
morse and  desperation  that  welled  up  in  the  troubled  soul  that 
penned  these  dying  lines  ?  Who  can  appreciate  the  sleepless 
nights  and  lingering,  lonely  hours  that  poor  Rood  battled  with 
in  fighting  the  temptations  of  suicide,  or  the  demon  of  insanity  ! 

About  a  year  before  his  death  I  received  a  long  letter,  from 
which  I  extract  the  following  asseverations  of  friendship  : 

"  I  am  right  glad  to  hear  from  you  and  yours;  for  the 
years,  though  many,  and  vicissitudes,  though  rough  and  various, 
have  greatly  separated  1866  and  1878  in  the  toils,  cares  and 
interests  of  life,  still  an  ever  vivid  recollection  of  the  days 
that  will  never  return,  and  pleasures  that  have  no  duplicates, 
furnish  an  impetus  and  desire  for  the  continuance  of  our  friend- 
ship. Colonel  Henderson  pictures  your  surroundings  as  pleas- 
ant and  delightful.  I  would  like  to  make  proof  of  it,  by  step- 


A   CHECKERED  LIFE.  141 

ping  in  upon  you,  and  chatting  about  old  friends  and  sweet 
memories,  that  may  be  varnished  over  by  departed  years,  but 
cannot  be  eradicated  from  the  heart  that  feels,  and  the  soul 
that  communes  with  truth,  love  and  ambition  !  Angie  sends 
her  kindest  regards  to  you  and  Mrs.  Joyce,  as  also  Willie,  who 
remembers  you  with  pleasure  ;  and  often  in  the  twilight  I  take 
up  the  beautiful  flute  you  gave  me,  and  play  some  of  the  airs 
we  loved  so  well  in  the  long  ago.  Now,  John,  write  me  a  long 
letter  in  reply  to  this,  and  throw  into  your  words  and  ideas  the 
beauty  and  romance  that  cheered  my  melancholy  hours  in  the 
old  Julian  building,  when  we 

'  Dipt  into  the  future 
Far  as  human  eye  could  see.' " 

Poor  fellow  !  I  wonder  if  he  could  see  the  sad  termination 
of  his  earthly  career  when  we  talked  to  empty  benches  in  the 
Julian  Theatre,  preparatory  to  taking  the  stump  in  a  Congres- 
sional canvass. 

I  could  linger  for  days  in  calling  up  reminiscences  of  my  ca- 
reer in  Dubuque,  floating  on  the  river,  exploring  among  the 
lead  mines,  strolling  over  the  rugged  bluffs  in  search  of  wild 
flowers,  rattling  away  to  the  five-mile  house  in  moonlight 
hours,  or  making  my  first  New  Year  calls  to  the  homes  of  hos- 
pitable citizens,  whose  pretty  houses  were  perched  on  the  steep 
hillsides  like  swallows'  nests  in  overhanging  cliffs.  Many  of 
those  I  knew  and  loved  in  1866  have  passed  into  the  dark 
shadows  of  eternity,  and  slumber  forever  on  the  upland  slopes 
of  the  Hawkeye  State. 

Yet  memory,  with  her  magic  ringers, 
Will  turn  with  hope  where  joy  still  lingers, 
And  bless  the  friends  beneath  the  sod, 
Who  loved  us  here,  then  went  to  God. 

After  receiving  license  to  practice  law,  I  felt  like  the  humble 
Oriental  who  had  been  presented  with  a  white  elephant ;  and 
whether  to  "go  West"  or  go  East  with  my  license  and  am- 
bition, was  a  problem  more  intricate  than  the  solution  of  one 
in  Euclid. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

WASHINGTON    CITY    AND    ITS    PEOPLE. 

One  cool,  bright  morning  in  November,  1866,  I  knocked  at 
the  door  of  Hon.  Wm.  B.  Allison,  located  in  the  historic 
chambers  of  Willard's  Hotel.  The  congressman  bade  me  en- 
ter, and  while  a  look  of  surprise  shot  across  his  face,  he  greeted 
me  with  the  old  smile,  and  from  his  large  gray  eyes  beamed 
that  magnetic  fire  that  never  failed  to  beget  confidence,  or  se- 
cure the  friendship  of  the  man  he  trusted.  I  told  him  I  came 
East  for  the  purpose  of  spending  a  few  winter  months  in  Wash- 
ington, and  while  here  would  be  pleased  to  secure  a  clerkship ; 
.and  that  when  spring  with  its  sun  and  flowers  decorated  the 
earth  I  should  go  to  the  boundless  West,  and  grow  up  with  the 
country ! 

He  laughed  at  my  proposal,  shook  his  head  in  seeming  sor- 
row, making  the  remark  that  if  he  had  a  son,  he  "  would 
rather  see  him  a  blacksmith,  farmer,  or  hod-carrier  in  the  West, 
than  have  him  bury  his  independence  and  manhood  in  the  red 
tape  pigeon-holes  of  Washington."  He  said  no  more,  but  the 
next  morning  went  with  me  to  the  office  of  Hon.  A.  E.  Rol- 
lins, Commissioner  of  Internal  Revenue.  I  was  introduced  in 
a  meaning  way.  There  were  "  no  vacancies,"  of  course,  but  I 
was  examined  by  a  civil  service  board,  with  Wm.  E.  Chandler, 
Assistant  Secretary  of  the  Treasury,  as  chief,  and  ere  I  knew 
what  had  occurred,  I  received  the  appointment  of  a  first-class 
clerkship. 

I  was  duly  assigned  to  the  "  law  division"  of  the  Internal 
Revenue  Office,  presided  over  by  a  sensitive  and  elegant  gen- 
.tleman  from  the  hills  of  New  England.  The  division  con- 

142 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE.  I43 

tained  about  a  dozen  men.  each  one  having  such  work  as  his 
presumed  capacity  commanded.  All  frauds  against  the  rev- 
enue were  sent  to  our  room  for  settlement.  Compromise  cases 
were  chief  subjects  for  consideration,  and  the  letters  of  agents, 
assessors,  collectors  and  district  attorneys  touching  this  branch 
of  business  consumed  the  time  of  the  clerks,  in  their  import- 
ant duty  of  solving  the  innocence  or  guilt  of  a  taxpayer  who 
had  failed  to  retuin  the  legacy  and  succession  tax  of  his  grand-- 
mother, cancel  the  check-stamp  of  his  uncle,  the  cigar  and 
beer-stamp  of  his  neighbor,  and  the  terrible  whiskey-stamps  of 
rectifier  and  distiller. 

When  I  entered  the  division,  the  chief  and  subordinates 
looked  upon  me  with  dignity  and  suspicion  ;  dignity,  because 
of  their  unapproachable  learning  and  information  ;  and  sus- 
picion, because  I  might  come  in  the  way  of  the  next  promo- 
tion. My  capacity  was  at  once  gauged  with  unerring  judg- 
ment; and,  in  company  with  another  clerk,  I  was  instructed  in 
detail  in  briefing  the  contents  of  letters  received,  and  ruling 
straight,  red,  parallel  lines  under  the  names  of  country  officials. 
I  continued  in  this  business  for  more  than  three  weeks,  until  a 
slight  attack  of  brain  fever  set  in,  superinduced  by  the  hercu- 
lean duty  performed  in  the  realms  of  red  tape  and  red  lines  ! 
I  spoke  to  the  chief  one  evening  after  office  hours,  and  asked 
him  if  he  could  not  find  another  assistant  to  relieve  my  excru- 
ciating labor. 

A  clerk  in  a  government  office  is  perfectly  happy  if  he  can 
find  some  other  clerk  to  boss,  but  the  poor  devil  stretched  out 
as  the  mudsill  of  the  official  bridge  is  indeed  a  miserable 
creature,  unless  he  can  occasionally  get  a  kick  at  a  messenger, 
or  scrub-woman.  Of  all  the  petty  tyrants  I  ever  knew,  the 
domineering,  egotistical,  clerical  jackass  who  happens  to  be 
"  clothed  with  a  little  brief  authority,"  exceeds  the  whole  tribe 
of  reprobates. 

The  chief  gave  me  a  bundle  of  papers  every  morning  to  di- 
gest and  write  an  opinion  upon,  no  doubt  to  test  my  qualifi- 
cations as  a  reasoner,  lawyer  and  philosopher.  I  ripped  into 


144 


A  CHECKERED  LIfiE. 


the  official  pile  like  a  crosscut  saw  through  a  five-foot  log, 
extricating  from  the  debris  of  straddle  revenue,  opinions,  rec- 
ommendations and  conclusions  in  the  premises.  When  com- 
pleted, I  laid  the  letter,  with  my  initials  at  the  bottom,  before 
the  head  of  my  section,  who  pondered  over  it  with  the  air  of 
a  sage,  cut  out  about  half,  and  returned  it  for  correction.  I 
put  the  original  letter  aside,  wrote  as  the  great  man  of  the  sec- 
tion dictated,  and  placed  it  on  his  desk,  receiving  his  initials 
on  the  left  hand  upper  corner,  then  with  the  pride  of  an 
American  Polyglot  shot  the  letter  under  the  eyeglass  of  the 
division  chief,  who  read  it  carefully,  crossed  out  two-thirds, 
and  ordered  me  to  write  out  in  shape  what  was  left.  I  put 
that  letter  in  my  desk,  wrote  a  new  one,  and  in  due  course 
presented  a  non-committal  letter  to  the  section  and  division 
chiefs  for  signature,  and  carried  the  precious  document  down 
stairs  to  the  commissioner.  He  gazed  in  an  absent  kind  of 
way  at  the  letter,  and  then,  as  if  a  magical  thought  struck  him 
between  the  diaphragm  and  the  brain,  he  slashed  out  three- 
fourths  of  it,  and  ordered  me  to  correct,  and  bring  it  to  him 
instantly.  I  did  this  with  an  injured  air.  By  the  time  all  the 
initials  and  signature  of  the  commissioner  were  attached  to  the 
document,  there  was  scarcely  a  word  of  my  original  composi- 
tion remaining.  I  felt  like  a  subdued  sheep,  and  was  willing 
to  be  slaughtered  ever  after  by  any  official  butcher  that  came 
along.  I  immediately  fell  into  the  rut  of  official  imbecility, 
and  never  afterwards  indulged  in  an  idea  that  had  not  been 
patented  at  least  a  hundred  years.  I  sneezed  when  the  section  - 
head  took  snuff,  laughed  when  the  division-head  told  an  an- 
cient story,  and  fairly  split  my  sides  when  the  commissioner 
bade  me  good-day. 

I  soon  found  that  promotion  did  not  always  go  by  merit,  and 
that  a  polished,  daring  clerk,  with  live  political  backing,  was 
sure  to  be  advanced,  while  his  desk  companion  of  genius  and 
learning  would  die  unnoticed  upon  the  stem  of  virgin  modesty. 

The  chief  clerk  of  an  office  is  a  great  man,  in  his  own  esti- 
mation, and  struts  about  with  the  air  of  a  Spanish  hidalgo, 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE.  145 

waiving  off  his  subordinates  with  a  curt  reply,  or  with  an  im- 
perial sweep  of  his  strong  right  arm.  He  would  not  exchange 
place  with  the  king  of  Siam,  or  deign  to  compete  in  dignity  with 
the  sultan  of  Turkey.  The  Secretary  of  the  Department  and 
Head  of  the  Bureau  may  occasionally  unbend  from  austere 
official  labor,  but  the  importance  and  dignity  of  the  chief  clerk 
remain  stern  and  unalterable  as  the  laws  of  the  Medes  and  Per- 
sians. While  his  personal  and  political  influence  lasts,  he  is 
lord  of  the  official  realm ;  but  when  the  lightning  of  dismissal 
strikes  his  devoted  head,  you  behold  him,  after  many  years  of 
service  and  tyranny,  walking  Pennsylvania  Avenue  as  a  second- 
class  tramp,  eking  out  a  precarious  existence  among  the  holes 
and  by-lanes  of  the  city. 

Clerks  average  twenty  or  thirty  years  in  the  tread-mill  of 
Department  life,  starting  in  with  bright  faces,  cheerful  hearts, 
and  a  laudable  ambition  to  perform  faithful  work,  save  some 
money  for  a  rainy  day,  marry  the  girl  of  their  choice  and 
move  to  the  boundless  West,  where  strong  hands  and  brave 
hearts  never  fail  to  carve  out  a  name,  fortune  and  place.  But, 
alas  for  human  calculations,  they  are  stuck  in  a  seven  by  nine 
pigeon-hole,  tramp  the  daily  tread-mill  with  their  fellows,  join 
the  Masons  or  the  Johnidab  lodge,  live  at  one  of  the  numerous 
boarding  houses  of  the  city,  meet  some  beautiful  and  innocent 
female  clerk,  cream  her,  wine  her,  theatre  her,  boat  her  down 
the  Potomac  by  moonlight,  and  then  in  due  course  procure  a 
ten-dollar  preacher,  and  marry. 

The  die  is  cast.  Sinbad,  the  sailor,  might  get  out  of  the 
diamond  valley  on  a  roc's  back,  but  a  twelve-hundred-dollar 
clerk  with  a  wife  and  four  or  more  children  astride  his  official 
shoulders  may  never  again  hope  for  the  peace  and  prosperity 
of  youth,  or  shake  off  the  fetters  he  has  entwined  about  him. 
Age  comes,  obligations  increase,  political  influence  dies,  and 
the  dreaded  "  yellow  envelope"  reaches  him  at  last,  clipping 
off  his  official  head  with  the  withering  coldness  of  a  killing 
frost.  The  poor  fellow — worn,  wrinkled  and  gray — mopes 
about  the  streets  and  hotels,  the  very  ghost  of  a  man,  seeking 


I46  A  CHECKERED  LIFE. 

some  senator,  representative  or  other  official,  to  assist  him  in 
getting  back  to  the  prison  cells  of  the  Department.  But  an- 
other new-made  grave  in  some  lone  cemetery — perhaps  in  the 
Potter's  Field — will  be  all  that  is  left  to  mark  the  spot  where 
crumbles  the  clerk  and  his  early  hopes. 

By  careful  manipulation  I  was  promoted  every  few  months, 
to  the  amazement  of  my  fellow  clerks,  and  soon  arrived  at  the 
summit  of  a  "  fourth-class"  station,  receiving  eighteen  hun- 
dred dollars  per .  annum  for  laboring,  with  my  tongue  mostly, 
four  hours  a  day ;  spending  the  other  twenty  in  reading,  feast- 
ing, strolling,  courting,  and  political  wire-working. 

A  year  after  my  arrival  in  Washington,  Cupid  shot  one  of 
his  fatal  darts  at  my  susceptible  heart,  and  before  I  hardly 
realized  it,  I  was  married  to  a  vivacious  and  intelligent  young 
lady  from  the  Highlands  of  the  Hudson. 

The  bright  side  of  clerical  life  is  found  in  the  home  circle 
when  holiday  rest  and  pay-day  intervenes  to  break  the  monot- 
ony of  official  labor.  Parties,  balls,  picnics  and  excursions 
down  the  Potomac,  are  never  failing  sources  of  pleasure,  and 
the  clerk  who  cannot  procure  a  sweetheart  to  accompany  him 
must  be  in  a  bad  way — unworthy  of  notice  or  social  friendship. 

Honesty,  sobriety  and  thrift  are  cardinal  virtues ;  and  while 
some  frivolous  clerks  sport  away  their  butterfly  existence  in 
running  after  the  gauze  and  glitter  of  official  receptions,  the 
majority  of  the  ladies  and  gentlemen  in  the  various  Depart- 
ments toil  faithfully  to  support  the  woman,  man  or  child  they 
love.  Very  few  in  the  outside  world,  when  they  behold  the 
human  stream  pour  in  at  nine  o'clock  in  the  morning  and 
come  out  again  at  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  appreciate  the 
troubles  and  responsibilities  of  the  weary  hearts  and  tired  brains 
of  the  faithful  workers  who  run  along  with  box  or  basket  con- 
taining their  frugal  lunch,  and  hasten  back  when  the  day's 
work  is  done  to  some  modest  house  in  the  suburbs,  where  rents 
are  cheap  and  fashion  has  not  invaded. 

Washington  society  is  cosmopolitan  in  the  main  ;  there  are 
four  distinct  classes,  that  never  mix  for  any  length  of  time, 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE. 


147 


viz  :  citizen,  diplomatic,  congressional  and  clerical.  The  old 
citizen,  who  lives  on  the  money  and  reputation  of  his  ances- 
tors, holds  at  arm's  length  the  flitting  families  of  to-day,  and 
boasts  of  the  "good  old  days  before  the  war,"  when  Jackson, 
Polk  and  Pierce  dignified  the  White  House,  and  every  gentle- 
man had  a  thousand  dollar  "nigger"  to  sell  as  a  stake  for  a 
horse  race  or  a  forfeit  at  a  poker  table.  In  the  march  of  pro- 
gress these  old  barnacles  of  a  bygone  age  are  passing  away  like 
morning  mist,  and  the  generations  now  sweeping  over  the  earth 
will  find  them  in  the  future  with  a  monument  and  a  faded 
memory,  under  the  cool,  romantic  shadows  of  Oak  Hill. 

The  Diplomatic  Corps  is  clannish,  proud,  and  often  pre- 
sumptions. They  laugh  at  the  rude  manners  of  our  young 
Republic  in  comparison  with  those  of  their  ancient  kingdoms, 
where  millions  toil  in  slavery  to  support  the  royal  few  in  their 
silken  sloth  and  hereditary  idleness.  You  find  them  occasion- 
ally out  in  force,  when  some  public  demonstration  gives  them 
a  chance  to  display  their  sleek  forms  clad  in  royal  style,  with 
elaborate  gold  braid  and  tinsel  sparkling  here  and  there,  not 
thinking  that  their  rich  garbs  are  wrung  from  the  tears,  sweat 
and  blood  of  poor  toilers  who  labor  from  the  cradle  to  the 
grave  as  mud -sills  for  monarchy. 

I  have  seen  congressional  society  come  and  go  for  twenty 
years — one  crowd  of  official  accidents  wiping  out  the  other, 
like  waves  upon  a  sea — when  perchance  an  occasional  breaker 
dashes  over  some  Senator,  Representative  or  Cabinet  Minister, 
and  lays  him  forever  in  the  tomb  of  official  oblivion.  Wives, 
sons,  daughters  and  friends  float  around  the  surface  of  their 
noted  chief,  in  apparently  everlasting  power ;  but  the  silent 
ballot  of  the  country  plowman  sends  these  creatures  of  a  day 
to  join  the  innumerable  caravan  of  politicians  who  have  pass- 
ed to  the  pale  realms  of  shade. 

The  clerical  class  of  society  is  the  largest  in  number,  and 
for  general  intelligence  and  good  behavior  compares  favorably 
with  the  other  three.  They  can  be  found  at  church  entertain- 
ments, raffle-fairs,  masonic  festivals,  listening  to  band  music 


I48  A  CHECKERED  LIPE. 

at  the  Capitol  or  White  House,  and  in  summer  they  crowd 
the  steamers  that  ply  to  and  from  the  historic  milestones  along 
the  lapping  waters  of  the  Potomac. 

Groups  of  the  "boys"  may  be  found  after  office  hours  in 
the  halls  of  the  National,  Metropolitan,  Arlington,  Ebbitt, 
Riggs  and  Willard's,  discussing  matters  of  state  over  a  bloom- 
ing "cocktail,"  a  bottle  of  Cliquot,  or  a  quart  of  Imperial 
from  the  vine-clad  slopes  of  Missouri.  They  are  jolly,  good 
natured  mortals,  who  treat  while  a  cent  remains,  and  never 
refuse  an  invitation  to  "smile,"  for  fear  of  insulting  the  gen- 
tleman who  extended  the  invitation.  I  have  known  many 
splendid  characters  among  clerks ;  and  some  who  have  passed 
over  the  River  of  Time  would  share  their  last  nickel  with  a 
friend,  although  they  knew  that  the  contribution-hat  would  be 
passed  around  among  their  comrades  to  procure  funds  for  their 
own  burial. 

There  is  another  class  of  people  in  the  District  of  Colum- 
bia who  do  not  particularly  depend  on  Government  for  their 
support,  and  who  do  not  court  any  society  that  lives  but  a  day 
and  then  vanishes  into  the  night  of  forgetfulness.  I  mean  the 
rich  merchant,  the  wealthy  farmer,  the  noted  lawyer,  the  real 
estate  owner,  the  prosperous  banker,  the  scientific  physician, 
and  the  retired  millionaire.  They  are  independent  citizens, 
caring  no  more  for  the  "May-flies"  of  official  renown  than  the 
rustle  of  a  passing  breeze.  They  live  in  quiet,  conscious  of 
their  worth,  knowing  the  latent  power  of  their  character, 
treating  the  world  with  politeness  and  decorum,  and  pass  to 
the  tomb  in  the  evening  glow  of  a  just  and  happy  life. 

Washington  is  the  Paris  of  America.  "Boss"  Shepard  took 
it  from  the  mud  of  Slavery,  and  placed  it  in  the  concrete  of 
Freedom.  He  had  the  genius,  the  soul  and  the  bravery  to 
secure  large  appropriations  for  improving  and  beautifying  the 
Capital,  and  by  his  primary  surveys  actually  forced  Congress 
at  succeeding  sessions  to  continue  the  grand  work  he  inaugur- 
ated. Money  was,  no  doubt,  spent  with  a  lavish  hand,  and 
while  a  very  few  contractors  became  rich,  the  majority,  with 


A   CHECKERED  LIFE. 


149 


Shepard  himself,  received  but  abuse,  kicks  and  poverty.  The 
pirates  of  the  press  assailed  the  Governor  as  a  national  robber ; 
but  with  the-  nerve  and  fortitude  that  never  forsakes  the  honest 
man,  he  kept  right  on  in  his  grand  enterprise,  and  to-day  has 
lived  down  the  unjust  and  villainous  abuse  of  jealous  medi- 
ocrity. The  day  is  near  at  hand  when  his  statue  in  marble  and 
bronze  shall  decorate  the  beautiful  parks  he  fashioned  and  im- 
proved ;  and  in  future  years  of  national  glory  his  memory  will 
be  revered  in  story,  and  eulogized  by  pen  and  eloquent  tongue 
when  his  traducers  are  lost  in  forgotten  graves. 

A  laboring  plumber,  a  great  contractor,  a  daring  and  patri- 
otic governor,  a  successful  miner  and  a  social  prince,  are  the 
practical  points  of  Shepard 'scarcer,  and  his  children's  children 
will  look  back  with  pride  upon  the  ilkutrious  example  of  their 
ancestor,  who  never  struck  below  the  belt,  or  cowered  before 
a  cyclone  of  vituperation  and  malediction. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

WASHINGTON,    ITS    ROMANTIC    AND    MATERIAL    ELEMENT*. 

Washington  City  and  its  surroundings  hold  more  natural, 
artistic  and  historic  interest  for  the  tourist  than  any  other  city  irt 
the  United  States.  Rome,  Paris,  London  and  Pekin  have  the 
frost  of  two  thousand  years  to  glorify  their  hoary  heads,  while 
the  capital  of  the  Great  Republic  has  but  a  century  of  deeds  to- 
match  the  illustrious  capitals  of  antiquity. 

And  yet,  when  art,  science,  progress  and  human  liberty  are 
considered,  our  Western  giant  strides  over  those  ancient  cities 
with  the  pride  and  strength  of  a  Colossus.  The  steamer,  tele- 
graph, sewing  machine,  cotton  gin,  spinning  jenny,  telephone, 
locomotive,  Hoe  printing  press,  elevated  railways,  cable  street 
cars,  elevators,  mowers,  reapers  and  binders,  electric  lights 
and  an  endless  variety  of  other  great  and  useful  inventions  are 
of  American  hand  and  brain. 

While  the  nations  of  Europe  and  Asia  boast  of  great  writers, 
architects,  painters,  sculptors  and  warriors,  and  trace  their 
history  along  the  widening  centuries,  in  the  battles  of  their 
kings,  czars  and  emperors  for  beauty,  booty  and  power,  the 
land  of  Washington  is  content  with  its  record  in  behalf  of 
freedom,  education  and  equal  rights. 

When  summer  with  its  fruits,  flowers  and  foliage  bedecks  the 
undulating  slopes  and  rolling  hills  of  the  national  capital,  the 
traveler  from  domestic  and  foreign  lands  may  spend  a  profita- 
ble hour  tinder  the  bronze  statue  of  General  Winfield  Scott  on 
the  romantic  heights  of  the  Soldiers'  Home  Park,  as  the  even- 
ing sun  sinks  behind  the  hills  of  the  Old  Dominion. 

150 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE.  !5! 

Far  to  the  left,  looking  south,  you  behold  abrupt  mountain 
spurs  fading  into  Maryland  landscapes,  with  the  silver  waters 
of  the  Anacosta  sparkling  in  the  view.  White  and  bold,  the 
round  dome  of  the  capitol  looms  up  into  the  blue  sky  like  a 
snowy  cloud  in  the  glimmering  distance ;  and  as  the  eye  peers 
along  the  green  banks  of  the  Potomac  to  Alexandria,  Fort 
Washington  and  Mount  Vernon,  twenty  miles  away,  sweeping 
back  to  the  right,  where  Fairfax  Seminary',  Arlington  Heights 
and  Georgetown  University  lift  their  classic  crests- — the  soul 
imbibes  the  glorious  scene,  and  views  Washington  with  poetic 
rapture,  as  she  sparkles  in  her  setting  of  emerald  hills,  like  a 
variegated  jewel  shining  in  the  purple  twilight. 

Before  turning  away  from  the  beautiful  walks,  drives,  trees, 
flowers  and  Arcadian  slopes  of  the  Soldiers'  Home,  let  the 
thoughtful  traveler  look  down  the  historic  vista  of  a  hundred 
years,  where  human  valor  shone  bright  and  brave  at  Lexing- 
ton, Bunker  Hill,  Trenton,  Saratoga,  Yorktown,  New  Orleans, 
Lake  Erie,  Mexico,  Chapultepec,  Buena  Vista,  Bull  Run,  Fort 
Donelson,  Shiloh,  Chancellorville,  Lookout  Mountain,  Atlanta, 
Gettysburg  and  Appomattox ;  and  taking  a  long,  lingering 
look  at  the  capitol,  he  beholds  the  last  rays  of  golden  sunset 
shining  on  the  starry  flag  and  Goddess  of  Liberty,  and  may 
justly  exclaim  :  Blessed  be  the  name  and  fame  of  an  American 
citizen  ! 

BOAT  CLUBS. 

The  boat  clubs  of  the  National  Capital  are  great  sources 
of  health  and  pleasure.  When  leafy  June  clothes  the  roll- 
ing hills  and  blooming  vales  of  the  placid  Potomac  with  an 
emerald  garb,  hundreds  of  happy  mortals  in  artistic  row-boats, 
may  be  seen  darting  along  the  beautiful  river  like  swallows,  as 
the  golden  sunbeams  in  the  west  melt  into  the  silvery  light  of 
the  rising  moon. 

The  Capitol,  Long  Bridge,  Washington  Monument,  Arling- 
ton, Aqueduct  Bridge,  Catholic  University  and  the  romantic 
heights  of  Georgetown  can  be  seen  in  the  glimmering  twilight ; 
and  as  day  departs  into  mellow  moonlight,  the  hum  of  busy 


!52  A  CHECKERED  LIfiE. 

insects,  tinkling  bells,  and  merry  serenaders  in  boats  can  be 
heard  for  miles  along  the  river,  rocks  and  gorges,  that  echo 
back  rhythmic  melody  to  hope,  love  and  beauty.  Then  it  is 
that  the  heart  of  man  and  woman,  boy  and  girl,  casts  aside 
dull  care,  and  allows  nature  to  assume  its  own  realm,  in  ram- 
ble, song  and  dance ;  crowning  shell,  out-rigger,  picnic  and 
barge  party,  with  a  halo  of  happiness. 

The  Analosta,  Potomac  and  Columbia  Clubs  may  be  re- 
spectfully denominated  as  aristocratic,  autocratic  and  demo- 
cratic ;  yet  all  ministering  to  health  and  pleasure,  vicing  with 
other  clubs  in  annual  regattas  for  golden  cups,  medals  and 
banners.  I  have  often  been  a  delighted  guest  of  these  clubs, 
and  in  an  humble  way  have  lent  my  grist  of  nonsense  and  song 
to  cheer  the  pleasant  hours,  scattering  a  few  wild  flowers  along 
the  by-paths  of  the  classic  Potomac. 

As  the  years  roll  away,  pleasure-boating  on  the  river  will  in- 
crease, until  every  well  regulated  family  in  the  District  of  Co- 
lumbia, will  have  a  representative  in  the  clubs,  where  each 
lady  and  gentleman  may  secure  a  closer  friendship  that  shall 
ripen  into  lasting  felicity. 

The  Grand  Canal  of  Venice,  with  its  interesting  water-ways, 
beautiful  gondolas,  royal  barges  and  marble  palaces  has  made 
the  "  Queen  of  the  Adriatic,"  noted  in  song  and  story  along 
the  lapse  of  ages  ;  and  although  the  "  Bridge  of  Sighs"  spans 
her  silvery  spray,  the  music  and  loves  of  boating  beauties  and 
gallant  knights  have  kept  alive  her  glory,  and  shall,  while  the 
snowy  peaks  of  Alpine  ranges  continue  to  shine  in  the  soft  sun- 
light of  an  Italian  sky.  So  shall  Washington  and  the  Poto- 
mac gather  for  us  some  unfading  laurels,  and  glorify  our  aquatic 
triumphs  in  marble,  poetry,  love  and  song,  even  when  the 
searching  storms  of  decay  shall  have  swept  over  the  crumbling 
monuments  of  Columbia ! 

"  I  heed  not  if  my  ripppling  skiff 
Floats  swift  or  slow  from  cliff  to  cliff; 
With  dreamful  eyes  my  spirit  lies 
Under  the  gates  of  Paradise." 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE.  153 

FAMOUS    CHARACTERS. 

The  pen  of  Dickens  and  the  brush  of  Reynolds  would  be 
needed  to  describe  the  noted  and  peculiar  characters  that  clus- 
ter about  the  Capital.  For  twenty  years  I  have  seen  them 
come  and  go,  like  swallows  in  season,  or  like  the  foliage  that 
blooms  in  spring,  brightens  in  summer,  fades  in  autumn,  and 
dies  in  the  withering  blasts  of  winter.  The  winding  corridors 
of  the  capitol  and  the  halls  of  hotels  and  restaurants  have 
sheltered  the  motley  group. 

There  is  SAM  Cox,  the  brightest  and  best-informed  man  in 
Congress;  and  while  his  "sunset"  of  life  glows  with  a  mellow 
light,  his  sparkling  wit  shines  like  drops  of  diamond  dew  at 
sunrise. 

Look  at  GEN.  SHERMAN,  striding  towards  the  war  office — 
quick  and  nervous  as  a  mountain  deer,  with  military  cloak  and 
broad-brimmed  hat — the  very  picture  of  a  dashing  soldier.  He 
knows  and  loves  everybody,  and  receives  a  double  grist  of  ad- 
miration for  his  heroic  virtues.  Like  a  gray  eagle  from  some 
splintered  crag,  his  bright,  flashing  eye  spans  the  vale  below, 
and  although  rare  birds  of  variegated  plumage" fill  the  forest 
with  dulcet  notes,  he  sweeps  into  the  boundless  blue  of  intel- 
lectual grandeur,  and  leads  the  chorus  of  the  mountains. 

See  General  GRANT,  short,  solid,  imperturbable — the  child 
of  destiny,  and  sure  as  Fate.  He  believes  in  himself,  and  never 
doubts  the  field  of  fortune,  but  sweeps  on  with  the  assurance  of 
calculated  audacity  ! 

Behold  PHIL  SHERIDAN,  a  born  soldier,  an  epigram  in  war, 
an  exclamation  point  of  success ;  inflexible  against  despair, 
snatching  victory  out  of  the  iron  jaws  of  defeat.  Wailing  Win- 
chester still  echoes  his  name. 

"  He  dashed  down  the  line,  'mid  a  storm  of  huzzas, 
And  the  wave  of  retreat  checked  its  course  there,  because 
The  sight  of  the  master  compelled  it  to  pause!" 

WADE  HAMPTON  moves  about  the  capitol  with  the  supreme 
confidence  of  a  soldier,  and  the  elegance  of  a  gentleman.  Bold 
and  patriotic  for  his  cause,  and  generous  to  a  fallen  foe,  heroic 


I5 4  A   CHECKERED  LIfiE. 

and  sincere  in  life,  his  memory  will  be  cherished  by  the  brave 
and  true  who  fight  for  home  and  fatherland. 

There  comes  GEORGE  B.  CORKHILL,  a  round  and  perfect 
gentleman,  who  sprung  at  one  bound  into  notoriety  by  launch- 
ing Guiteau  into  "  the  pale  realms  of  shade,"  in  justice  to  the 
martyr  GARFIELD. 

Who  does  not  know  beaming  BOB  INGERSOLL,  w'ho  dares  the 
world  with  his  Curious  infidel  convictions?  He  says,  "  Life  is 
a  narrow  vale  between  the  barren  peaks  of  two  eternities,"  yet 
his  heart  and  soul  can  hear  the  "  rustle  of  a  wing,"  and  see 
the  bright  stars  of  hope  sparkle  in  the  realms  of  God.  He 
may  write,  lecture  and  argue  to  the  tomb,  but  he  knows  and 
feels  in  his  inmost  heart,  that  God  and  nature  sing  the  song  of 
everlasting  life  ! 

GEORGE  ALFRED  TOWNSEND  is  the  most  graceful  reminis- 
cence writeF  in  the  country.  He  has  a  looking-glass  mind 
that  can  reflect  all  objects  received.  He  writes  beautiful,  po- 
etic lines ;  and  had  the  Adriatic  instead  of  the  Chesapeake 
sang  at  his  birth,  the  classic  tones  of  Tasso  might  have  inspired 
his  lute. 

Gaze  upon  LUCIAN  YOUNG,  a  gay  Viking  of  the  salt  sea. 
Kentucky  never  produced  a  braver  man,  and  the  navy  has 
no  better  sailor.  While  Cape  Hatteras  roars  over  the  wreck 
of  the  ill-fated  Huron,  the  glory  of  Young  will  be  sung  in 
storms,  and  the  lives  he  saved  in  breasting  the  billows  of  fate 
will  place  his  name  in  the  proud  roster  of  naval  heroes. 

Classic  JOHN  DANENHOWER  has  the  cool,  quiet  bravery  of  his 
companion  Young ;  and  while  the  icebergs  of  the  Arctic  sea 
glitter  in  the  cold  sunlight  of  Siberian  solitude,  Danenhower, 
Melville  and  De  Long  will  be  seen  in  the  noble  procession  of 
naval  heroes  who  have  suffered  for  science  and  country. 

There  is  a  conundrum  of  a  character  leaning  against  Wil- 
lard's  antique  portals — TOM  OCHILTREE — he  with  that  Titan 
top-knot,  a  lover  of  truth,  and  as  modest  as  a  maiden.  He 
came  as  a  blizzard  from  Texas,  and  lingers  like  sunshine  mid 
open  flowers. 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE.  l^ 

PROCTOR  KNOTT  is  a  walking  compilation  of  wit  and  mag- 
netic humanity.  While  he  is  not  as  quick  in  repartee  as  Con- 
gressman Cox  or  Senator  Vest,  he  has  better  staying  qualities 
in  the  field  of  fun,  and  a  faculty  of  making  the  most  out  of  the 
world  that  laughs. 

His  satirical  description  of  the  tropical  clime  and  rosy  sur- 
roundings of  Duluth  made  him  governor  of  Kentucky  !  .  Few 
men  have  prospered  so  long  and  well  on  one  funny  speech. 
Yet  he  might  have  been  a  rival  of  Douglas  Jerrold  and  Dean 
Swift,  and  sat  with  Beau  Nash  among  the  beauties  of  Bath. 
His  gray  hair,  fine  brow,  bright  eye  and  florid  face,  are  golden 
sign-boards  to  his  genial  heart.  Love  and  confidence  follow 
in  his  train,  and  the  clouds  of  misfortune  have  never  dimmed 
the  luster  of  his  polished  humor. 

As  lawyer,  congressman  and  governor,  he  has  been  the  pride 
of  Kentucky ;  and  while  curmudgeons  may  hot  like  the  ease 
and  freedom  of  his  manner,  the  heart  of  the  people  beats  re- 
sponsive to  his  own. 

Long  may  he  live  to  cheer  the  festive  board, 
And  spread  his  bounty  like  a  royal  lord. 

And  there  is  JAMES  G.  BLAINE,  sauntering  down  Pennsylva- 
nia avenue  to  the  capitol  with  one  of  his  senatorial  chums.  He 
talks  and  gesticulates  incessantly,  not  only  for  his  side  partner, 
but  for  the  world  at  large.  He  might  have  been  a  rival  of  the 
actor  Garrick. 

"On  the  stage,  he  was  natural,  simple,  affecting, 
'Twas  only  that  when  he  was  off  he  was  acting." 

As  school-teacher,  editor,  representative,  speaker,  senator 
and  secretary,  Elaine  .has  filled  a  rich  nook  in  our  Republic  for 
thirty  years  ;  and  while  not  endowed  with  the  profound  knowl- 
edge of  Aaron  Burr  or  Henry  Clay,  he  possesses  the  scheming 
elegance  of  the  former,  and  the  audacious  independence  of  the 
latter  statesman.  He  belongs  to  the  irrepressible  race  of  Celts, 
whose  hand  and  brain  can  be  seen  on  the  milestones  of  human 
history,  through  the  valleys  and  across  the  rugged  mountains  of 
antiquity. 


156  A  CHECKERED  LIFE. 

Look  at  royal  ROSCOE  CONKLING  as  he  strides  the  senatorial 
chamber,  posing  for  the  gallery  gods,  and  sneering  at  his  sena- 
torial compeers,  who  crouch  beneath  the  satire  and  lightning 
flashes  of  this  modern  Ajax.  He  possesses  the  wisdom  of 
Burke,  the  eloquent  flights  of  Mirabeau  and  the  imperial  phil- 
osophy of  Caesar,  who  believed  that  the  people  were  created 
for  his  imperial  use. 

"  Why  man  he  doth  bestride  the  narrow  world  like  a  Colossus." 
#•  •&  #  #  •&#•*# 

"  Now  in  the  name  of  all  the  gods  at  once, 
Upon  what  meat  doth  this  our  Csesar  feed — 
That  he  lords  it  over  all  ?" 

Glance  for  a  moment  at  that  tall,  straight,  classic  figure  as 
he  walks  to  his  senatorial  desk,  and  dashes  off  letters  and  bills 
with  the  rapidity  of  a  stenographer.  That  is  CHARLES  SUMNER, 
the  Massachusetts  statesman.  His  hair  is  bushy  and  gray,  his' 
face  clean-cut  and  studious.  The  beauty  of  Alcibiades  must 
have  shone  in  his  youth ;  while  the  eloquence  of  Pericles,  the 
Athenian,  moulded  his  manhood.  Like  his  Athenian  proto- 
type, he  was  the  uncompromising  patron  of  the  people,  and 
lovers  of  art,  letters  and  science  found  a  friend  in  the  noted 
abolitionist.  Although  the  bludgeon  of  slavery  struck  him 
down  in  the  senate,  he  was  the  first  statesman  in  America 
who  dared  to  blot  out  from  the  victorious  flag  of  freedom  the 
battle-scars  of  civil  war.  Aspasia  in  her  most  noble  days, 
might  have  chosen  him  instead  of  Pericles,  and  as  he  possessed 
the  intelligence  of  the  Grecian,  he  had  the  unalterable  fortitude 
of  Cato,  the  illustrious  Roman. 

Look  at  JAMES  B.  BELFORD,  a  curious  compound  from  the 
cloud-capped  peaks  of  Colorado.  He  swaggers  along  with  the 
.air  of  a  Rocky  Mountain  stage-driver,  or  the  buck-skin  bold- 
ness of  a  miner.  While  receiving  the  sneering  shots  of  his 
more  genteel  companions  in  Congress,  he  gives  them  an  occa- 
sional broadside  that  strips  their  surface-plates  to  the  water's 
^dge,  exposing  the  worm-eaten  wood  of  mediocrity.  Belford, 
like  Sumner,  is  a  man  of  the  people.  He  has  a  thorough 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE. 

knowledge  of  letters,  law,  and  constitutions.  Labor  finds  in 
him  a  champion  of  strict  integrity ;  and  while  capital  mocks  at 
his  opposition,  the  day  may  come  when  its  votaries  will  kneel 
at  his  feet  as  the  Danton  of  another  revolution. 

Capital  and  labor  will  be  at  war  while  God  stamps  men 
with  unequal  body  and  brain.  All  that  the  legislators  of  the 
earth  can  do  is  to  regulate  the  never-ending  jealousy  that 
arises  out  of  the  eternal  laws  of  self-preservation. 

The  ground-swell  of  labor  may  rise  every  century,  and  throw 
off  for  a  time  the  cruel  crust  of  poverty  and  tyranny ;  but  like 
volcanic  upheavals,  the  earth  and  sea  settle  back  into  their 
wonted  depths,  and  the  coral  insects  of  honest  labor  build 
again  over  the  desolation  they  have  wrought ! 

Behold  the  Bacchus  boquet  of  bar-room  beauties  as  they 
meander  off  to  "smile"  away  the  lingering  hours.  Generals,, 
colonels,  clerks,  doctors  and  irrepressible  judges  have  passed 
before  my  vision  for  many  years,  and  to-day  they  seem  as 
"willin'  "  as  Bacchus  to  take  "suthin,"  and  as  fresh  as  morn- 
ing zephyrs  in  cheeking  down  adversity.  Ponce  de  Leon 
might  have  discovered  the  fountain  of  youth  had  he  known  how 
faded  gentility  lives  at  the  Capital  without  any  visible  means: 
of  support.  Esto  Perpetua. 


CHAPTER  XXL 

IMPEACHMENT   OF   PRESIDENT   JOHNSON. — LEAVING  THE   INTER- 
NAL  REVENUE   OFFICE. 

The  Impeachment  of  President  Andrew  Johnson  was  rife 
with  interest,  excitement  and  ambition.  Washington  society 
was  stirred  from  center  to  circumference ;  and  while  the  De- 
partment officials  leaned  to  the  side  of  their  immediate  "  bread 
and  butter,"  there  were  thousands  who  acted  secretly  with 
-congressional  influences,  and  held  a  sail  to  windward  to  catch 
the  radical  breeze  of  success. 

If  there  is  any  one  thing  that  a  Washington  Department 
official  can  do  with  great  neatness  and  dispatch,  it  is  the  acro- 
batic performance  of  turning  his  politics  with  each  succeeding 
administration.  It  is  related  of  old  "Joe"  Wilson,  who  was 
Commissioner  of  the  General  Land  Office  for  nearly  thirty 
years,  that  at  a  social  reception  he  was  taunted  by  a  senator  of 
promptly  changing  his  politics  to  accommodate  every  new  ad- 
ministration. 

Joe,  not  the  least  embarassed,  replied:  "  Mr.  Senator,  I  pro- 
fess to  be  a  man  of  genius,  and  a  walking  encyclopaedia  of  va- 
ried information,  and  I  thank  God  that  I  never  yet  saw  an  ad- 
ministration that  could  turn  faster  than  I  can  !" 

I  was  in  the  House  gallery  the  day  Articles  of  Impeachment 
were  passed  against  President  Johnson.  The  Radical  mem- 
bers, led  by  Thaddeus  Stevens,  the  greatest  man  in  Congress, 
determined  to  push  the  articles  through  under  whip  and  spur. 
Butler,  Boutwell,  Bingham,  Schenck,  Washburne,  Poland  and 
Allison,  belabored  the  Administration  with  trip-hammer  blows. 
Wood,  Brooks,  Cox  and  Eldredge,  endeavored  to  stem  the  tide 

158 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE.  I59 

of  Radical  progress,  and  break  the  storm  that  roared  about  the 
devoted  head  of  their  chief. 

Hon.  Charles  A.  Eldredge,  of  Wisconsin,  was  the  leader  of 
the  forlorn  hope  of  Democracy,  and  for  many  years  stood  in 
the  way  of  the  Radical  reconstruction  laws  of  Congress.  He 
was  taunting  and  badgering  in  his  attacks,  and  delighted  in 
stirring  up  the  congressional  menagerie  with  a  long,  logical 
pole.  As  a  satirist  and  wit,  he  had  few  superiors ;  and  as  a  man 
of  generous  judgment  and  a  lawyer  of  fine  ability,  he  had  few 
equals.  The  "Old  Commoner,"  of  Pennsylvania,  acknowl- 
edged the  ability  of  Eldredge  ;  and  while  he  fired  his  ponder- 
ous oratory  at  the  political  heresies  of  the  Wisconsin  states- 
man, he  never  broke  that  rare  personal  friendship  that  lasted 
until  the  luster  of  life  faded  forever  from  those  great  gray  eyes 
of  the  Pennsylvania  radical. 

In  the  passage  of  the  Impeachment  articles,  the  "previous 
question"  was  finally  secured  by  the  unalterable  determination 
of  Thaddeus  Stevens,  who  arose  in  his  seat  like  a  bold  mount- 
ain crag  lifting  itself  above  the  gurgling  waters,  rolling  plains 
and  hill-tops  around.  He  sent  forth  satire  at  the  Reconstruc- 
tion vetoes  of  Johnson,  accusing  him  of  high  crimes  and  mis- 
demeanors, with  as  much  power  and  eloquence  as  Burke  spent 
upon  the  doomed  head  of  Warren  Hastings.  His  bold  flights 
or  logic  and  accusing  wrath  reminded  me  of  the  sweep  of  the 
mountain  eagle,  or  the  condor  of  the  Andes,  that  soars  away 
into  illimitable  space  to  "  bathe  his  plumage  in  the  thunder's 
home." 

But  how  vain  are  all  the  calculations  and  .battles  of  man  ! 
The  impeachment  of  Andrew  Johnson  is  now  but  a  memory 
in  the  march  of  the  Great  Republic,  and  the  principal  actors 
have  long  since  mingled  their  dust  with  that  of  the  hills  and 
valleys  they  loved  in  life.  Johnson  rests  on  the  mountain 
slopes  of  East  Tennessee,  where  the  morning  sunbeams,  dart- 
ing over  the  Smoky  Range,  may  linger  for  a  moment  on  the 
rugged  character  who  was  unconquerable  in  life  and  honored 
by  all  in  death. 


T6o  A  CHECKERED  LIFE. 

The  last  look  I  had  of  Thaddeus  Stevens  was  in  the  rotunda 
of  the  capitol  when  his  body  lay  in  state.  That  great  angular 
head,  crowned  with  a  broad,  high  forehead  like  a  beetling 
cliff,  breaks  upon  my  memory  now,  and  takes  me  back  to  the 
scenes  of  his  forensic  triumphs,  when  he  lashed  the  halting  and 
hesitating  into  the  Radical  lines,  as  if  each  word  that  issued 
from  his  pale  lips  struck  in  like  a  whip  of  scorpions.  But  the 
great  heart  and  broad  intellect  that  gave  free  schools  to  Penn- 
sylvania, and  universal  suffrage  to  the  nation,  sleeps  in  modest 
glory  at  Lancaster.  Some  day  the  people  of  Pennsylvania  will 
erect  a  grand  monument  to  his  memory,  and  the  teachers  and 
school-children  of  the  Keystone  State,  will  contribute  a  marble 
statue  of  the  great  man  holding  a  book,  and  writing  with  a 
golden  pen  :  Equality  and  freedom  for  all  mankind  \ 

*** 

In  the  fall  of  1869,  I  left  the  Internal  Revenue  Office. 
Through  the  instrumentality  of  Hon.  Columbus  Delano,  Com- 
missioner of  Internal  Revenue,  I  was  sent  West  to  take  charge 
of  the  official  papers  of  the  supervisor's  office  for  Arkansas  and 
the  Indian  Territory,  and  perform  the  duties  incident  to  that 
responsible  position.  Headquarters  were  located  at  Little 
Rock,  the  capital  and  most  beautiful  city  of  Arkansas.  The 
supervisor's  office,  when  not  carried  in  a  hat,  was  located  at 
the  old  Anthony  House. 

I  left  Washington  City  one  starlight  night,  leaving  behind 
family  and  friends,  and  with  high  hopes  and  poetic  expecta- 
tions rattled  away  over  hill,  mountain,  river  and  plain  until  I 
reached  the  city  of  Memphis,  situated  on  a  bold  cliff,  over- 
looking the  turbid  waters  of  the  Mississippi.  Resting  at  the 
Overton  House  for  a  day,  and  becoming  acquainted  with  a 
number  of  citizens  bound  to  their  homes  in  Little  Rock  and 
Duvall's  Bluffs,  we  secured  passage  on  the  old  side-wheel 
steamer  Commercial. 

The  Commercial  was  loaded  to  the  guards  with  freight  and 
passengers,  and  as  the  evening  shadows  lengthened,  she  slipped 
her  cable,  and  with  the  rhythmic  song  of  darkey  deck-hands, 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE.  !6i 

sounding  a  farewell  chorus,  we  steamed  down  the  river  toward 
Fort  Pillow,  and  into  the  mouth  of  White  River. 

In  due  course  we  landed  at  Duvall's  Bluffs,  and  took  a  ram- 
shackle railroad  for  Little  Rock.  The  train  lurched  forward 
and  sideways  as  if  each  puff  of  the  engine  would  land  us  on 
the  wild  prairies,  or  among  the  burr-oaks  and  black-jacks  of 
the  swampy  woods.  My  heart  was  in  my  mouth,  and  even  the 
assurance  of  Colonel  Price  that  the  road  was  smooth  and  safe, 
did  not  quiet  my  day-dreams  of  death,  until  the  iron  horse 
whistled  his  shrill  notes  for  the  shanty  depot  opposite  the  town 
of  Rocks.  We  crossed  the  Arkansas  River  on  a  ferry,  and 
climbed  the  steep  streets  leading  to  the  center  of  the  city,  put- 
ting up  at  the  Anthony  House,  where  a  good  supper  and  soft 
bed  banished  dull  care. 

I  remained  in  Little  Rock  about  two  months,  visiting,  riding 
and  manipulating  in  the  walks  of  pleasure,  when  not  engaged 
in  the  stale  rut  of  official  work.  The  U.  S.  Arsenal  was  a  re- 
sort of  fun  and  jolly  entertainments,  where  officers  and  soldiers 
joined  in  contributing  to  the  enjoyment  of  citizens,  irrespective 
of  party.  Many  private  houses  threw  open  their  hospitable 
doors,  and  entertained  with  a  lavish  hand  those  citizens  who 
had  left  home  and  friends  in  the  North  to  battle  with  prejudice 
and  unknown  fields,  in  a  land  of  strangers.  Many  of  the  "  old 
families,"  however,  would  not  mingle  with  the  new-fledged 
birds  of  passage  that  had  tried  their  "  carpet-bag"  wings  in  the 
capital  of  the  state.  Nor  is  this  to  be  wondered  at.  A  great, 
desolating  war  had  just  swept  over  the  land ;  the  deep  scars  of 
defeat  and  death  could  be  still  seen  on  the  fertile  bottoms  and 
broken  hill-sides  of  Arkansas.  Fathers,  brothers  and  sons  had 
gone  down  in  the  shock  of  battle,  and  their  green  graves 
punctuated  resentment. 

"A  Fool's  Errand"  and  "  Bricks  Without  Straw,"  with  the 
harrowing  details  may  not  be  overdrawn,  but  if  the  brilliant 
author  will  turn  the  tables  and  reverse  the  glass  for  a  few  mo- 
ments, he  might  recite  and  contemplate  with  more  horror 
the  picture  of  a  triumphant  South  playing  the  adventurer  and 


!62  A  CHECKERED  LIfE. 

"carpet-bagger"  over  the  North  !  I  am  candid  to  acknowl- 
edge that  if  fate  had  doomed  me  to  defeat  I  should  never, 
while  life  remained,  have  acknowledged  the  slave  oligarchy,  or 
bent  my  knee  and  neck  to  the  yoke  of  the  conqueror ;  and  I 
believe  the  free  spirit  of  the  North  would  have  committed  a 
million  more  crimes,  in  the  interest  of  their  defeated  manhood, 
than  have  ever  been  laid  at  the  door  of  the  White  League  or 
Kuklux  Klan. 

Little  Rock  is  beautifully  situated  on  a  high  bluff,  overiooK- 
ing  the  Arkansas.  On  the  hilly  margin  of  the  stream  a  large 
number  of  fine  mansions  have  been  erected  since  the  war. 
The  Pike  mansion  in  olden  times  often  rang  to  the  music  of 
the  piano,  violin,  guitar  and  banjo,  and  young  hearts  and  old 
heads  tripped  away  in  the  merry  dance  to  the  tune  of  "Monnie 
Musk,"  "Fishers'  Hornpipe,"  or  "The  Arkansas  Traveler." 
Bright-haired  Apollo  and  beautiful  Venus  vied  in  the  boundless 
pleasure  of  the  hour,  where 

"  Joy  leaps  on  faster  with  a  louder  laugh, 
And  Sorrow  tosses  to  the  sea  his  staff, 
And  pushes  back  the  hair  from  his  dim  eyes, 
To  look  again  upon  forgotten  skies!'' 

Albert  Pike,  the  good,  gray  poet,  who  penned  these  classic 
lines,  was  the  presiding  sage  that  gave  to  the  Pike  mansion  its 
glory,  and  made  it  the  Mecca  of  literary  pilgrims  from  home 
and  foreign  lands.  But  the  glory  of  those  ancient  halls  has  de- 
parted ;  the  cobwebs  of  time  interlace  the  crumbling  lattice  ; 
the  bat  and  the  owl  flit. in  the  grove  in  twilight  hours;  the 
sound  of  revelry  only  comes  back  through  the  magic  memory 
of  vanished  years,  and  the  old  poet,  like  a  relic  of  bygone 
days,  moves  among  the  throng  of  the  National  Capitol,  peer- 
ing through  the  gloaming  of  the  past  into  clouded,  but  not 
"  forgotten  skies  !"  A  kind  thought  and  sad  tear  shall  fill  the 
measure  of  the  old  man's  ambition,  and  when  our  greatest  ma- 
sonic light  goes  out  forever,  his  modest  hopes  shall  not  be  dis- 
appointed, and  his  own  pathetic  lines  will  be  a  prophecy  to 
his  mystic  brethren  in  every  land  and  clime  : 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE.  163 

"  Perhaps  when  I  have  passed  away, 

Like  the  sad  echo  of  a  dream, 
There  may  be  some  one  found  to  say 
A  word  that  might  like  sorroiv  seem!" 

I  knew  several  remarkable  men  at  Little  Rock,  who  congre- 
gated to  the  city  from  the  North  after  the  close  of  the  war,  and 
organized  the  state  government  in  "  carpet-bag"  days. 

Powell  Clayton,  Alex.  McDonald,  Tom  Bowen,  Jack  Mc- 
Clure,  Steve  Dorsey,  Jim  Hodges,  Bill  Oliver,  Joe  Brooks  and 
Charles  W.  Tankersby  were  the  ruling  conclave. 

Tankersby  was  the  most  remarkable  man  of  the  party.  I  saw 
him  on  one  occasion,  at  the  assembling  of  the  Legislature, 
take  the  Speaker's  chair  in  a  factional  fight,  and  hold  it  like 
Napoleon  did  in  the  days  of  the  French  triumvirate.  "  Tank," 
as  he  was  familiarly  called,  was  a  born  leader,  and  had  he  been 
schooled  in  war  would  have  made  a  great  general. 

In  the  course  of  my  official  career,  it  became  necessary  to 
proceed  to  Fort  Smith,  where  temporary  headquarters  were  es- 
tablished, and  alleged  frauds  on  the  revenue  were  being  perpe- 
trated by  manufacturers  of  tobacco,  who  had  erected  their  fac- 
tories along  the  line  of  Arkansas  and  the  Indian  Territory. 

District  Attorney  Huckleberry,  Marshal  Britton,  Deputy 
Collector  Arthur  Gunther  and  Deputy  Collector  R.  C.  Kerens 
were  consulted  in  regard  to  the  alleged  frauds.  It  was  con- 
ceded by  all  that  tobacco  was  being  manufactured  and  shipped 
into  the  states  without  payment  of  the  prescribed  tax,  under 
the  impression  of  treaty  stipulations  empowering  Indians  to  do 
under  the  revenue  laws  what  white  manufacturers  could  not  do. 

The  Indian  manufacturers  always  insisted  that  they  had  the 
sanction  of  the  Internal  Revenue  Office  in  the  establishment 
of  their  factories,  and  that  no  fraud  was  intended ;  while  the 
officers  believed  that  the  Indians  were  simple  figure-heads  for 
the  brain  and  capital  of  cunning  white  men,  who  escaped  tax- 
ation, and  thereby  unjustly  competed  with  honest  manufactur- 
ers in  the  states.  Be  this  as  it  may,  some  of  the  parties  allege 
their  entire  ruin,  and  now  present  an  equitable  claim  for  loss 
incurred  through  the  government  prosecution. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

OFFICIAL   AND    PERSONAL    EXPERIENCE    IN    MISSOURI. 

In  the  summer  of  1870,  the  states  of  Missouri,  Kansas,  Texas 
and  New  Mexico  were  added  to  the  supervisory  district  of  Ar- 
kansas and  the  Indian  Territory,  with  headquarters  at  St. 
Louis.  I  took  charge  of  the  St.  Louis  office,  located  on  the 
corner  of  Fifth  and  Pine  streets,  as  chief  clerk  of  the  establish- 
ment. Soon  after,  I  was  promoted  to  the  position  of  a  general 
revenue  agent,  but  continued  to  perform  the  legal  duties  of 
the  office  in  conjunction  with  Thomas  Walsh,  a  gentleman  of 
fine  clerical  ability,  and  an  honorable  man. 

I  made  periodical  trips  through  the  District,  investigating 
the  offices  of  collectors  and  assessors,  and  examining  into  the 
general  enforcement  of  the  revenue  laws,  reporting  my  conclu- 
sions and  recommendations  to  the  Commissioner  of  Internal 
Revenue  at  Washington.  When  not  engaged  with  official 
duties  in  Missouri,  I  took  part  in  politics,  and  became  a  worker, 
writer  and  speaker  for  the  Republican  party.  I  was  what 
might  be  termed  a  natural  politician,  and  took  to  the  eccentri- 
cities of  the  trade  with  vivacity  and  pleasure.  Ward,  city, 
county,  state  and  National  Conventions  found  me  as  a  delegate. 

The  Presidential  campaign  of  1872  was  a  remarkable  one. 
Grant  had  been  in  office  about  four  years,  and  had  failed  to 
put  a  million  chronic  office-seekers  into  a  hundred  thousand 
places.  This  was  sad,  but  true.  The  patriotic  men  in  the  Repub- 
lican party,  who  carried  torchlights  in  1868,  and  grew  hoarse 
in  praise  of  the  hero  of  Appomattox  and  the  historic  apple 
tree,  and  who  failed  to  get  office,  were  hungry  and  rampant 
four  years  later. 

164 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE.  165 

On  the  22d  of  February,  1872,  the  Republicans  of  Missouri 
held  a  state  convention  in  Jefferson  City,  for  the  purpose  of 
nominating  thirty  delegates  to  attend  the  National  Convention 
to  be  held  in  June  at  Philadelphia.  The  convention  was  com- 
posed of  about  seven  hundred  delegates,  every  county  in  the 
state  being  represented.  The  Liberal  wing,  led  by  Henderson, 
Stanard,  Dyer  and  Grosvenor,  and  the  Radical  wing,  com- 
manded by  Blow,  Filley,  McKee,  Burdett,  Van  Horn,  New- 
comb  and  Krum,  endeavored  to  lay  down  their  old  differences 
on  the  altar  of  harmony,  and  retrieve  what  they  had  lost  in  the 
''sell-out"  of  Gratz  Brown  to  the  Democracy.  The  factions 
approached  each  other  very  gingerly,  and  while  talking  of  har- 
mony, worked  secretly  to  nominate  their  own  men. 

I  was  elected  as  a  delegate  from  the  ninth  ward,  and  went 
into  the  convention  "red  hot"  for  the  Administration.  There 
was  no  trouble  in  my  going  to  any  convention  as  a  delegate 
from  the  ninth  ward  after  I  learned  the  ropes  of  city  politics. 

The  night  before  the  convention  at  Jefferson  City,  a  great 
crowd  assembled  at  the  Madison  House.  "Slates"  were  fixed 
up,  ciphered  upon,  rubbed  out,  and  smashed.  Knots  of  del- 
egates assembled  in  rooms,  halls,  and  on  the  pavement,  dis- 
cussing the  prospects  of  the  next  day,  and  predicting  that  such 
and  such  parties  would  be  put  in  nomination. 

I  walked  over  to  the  state  house  on  the  morning  of  the  con- 
vention, with  Chauncey  I.  Filley,  my  room-mate  of  the  previ- 
ous night.  We  had  fixed  up  a  slate  for  President  of  the  con- 
vention, but  through  some  unforeseen  circumstances,  our  man 
was  not  presented.  After  Henry  T.  Blow,  chairman  of  the 
State  Central  Committee,  called  the  meeting  to  order  in  a 
patriotic,  harmonious  speech,  the  name  of  George  H.  Shields, 
a  law  partner  of  John  B.  Henderson,  was  put  in  nomination 
for  President  of  the  convention,  and  his  election  was  secured 
without  opposition.  Committees  were  duly  announced,  cre- 
dentials examined,  and  everything  put  in  working  order.  I 
was  appointed  on  the  committee  to  draft  resolutions ;  and  be- 
ing a  sentimentalist,  prepared  a  set  before  I  left  St.  Louis,  that 


T66  A  CHECKERED  LlfE. 

embodied  my  idea  of  Republican  principles.  The  endorse- 
ment of  Grant's  administration  and  a  firm  assertion  of  hard- 
money  principles  were  the  main  features  in  my  "cut  and  dried" 
material,  outside  the  usual  buncomb  promises  in  the  interests 
of  truth,  virtue,  honesty,  economy  and  liberty. 

Gen.  John  B.  Henderson  saw  at  once  that  I  was  pitching 
about  like  a  young  colt  in  a  wasp's  nest,  or  like  the  Hibernian 
at  Donnybrook  Fair,  hunting  for  some  one  to  tread  on  the  tail 
of  his  coat.  He  quietly  caught  me  under  the  shadow  of  one  of 
the  pillars  that  supported  the  porch  of  the  capitol,  and  with  a 
peculiar  twinkle  in  his  eye,  said  :  "  Joyce,  my  dear  fellow,  let 
me  give  you  a  little  advice.  Go  to  the  drug  store,  get  a  pint 
of  red  pepper,  put  it  in  your  boots,  and  draw  the  heat  out  of 
your  head  ! "  Before  I  conld  reply,  he  shot  off  with  a  laugh, 
and  left  me  to  muse  on  his  good  natured  cut. 

My  real  object  in  attending  the  State  Convention  was  for  the 
purpose  of  becoming  a  delegate  to  the  National  Convention, 
and  thus  pave  the  way  for  Congressional  preferment  in  the  3d 
District.  I  consulted  with  Mr.  Filley,  with  whom  I  held  the 
closest  personal  and  political  relations,  and  who  never,  when 
he  was  in  power,  failed  to  advise  with  me  on  current  political 
matters. 

I  was  often  at  his  residence,  and  dined  with  himself  and  his 
charming  and  intellectual  wife.  Knowing  that  he  made  a  reg- 
ular business  of  politics,  I  often  gave  way  to  his  expert  talent 
in  running  "the  machine. "  He  suggested  that  I  had  better 
not  run  directly  as  a  delegate  to  the  National  Convention,  but 
turn  in  and  pull  the  wires  for  his  election  ;  and  as  he  only 
wanted  the  glory  and  power  that  being  a  National  delegate 
would  afford  in  the  new  Administration,  I  could,  when  the 
proper  time  came,  take  his  proxy  and  be,  to  all  intents  and 
purposes,  an  actual  voting  delegate. 

I  assented  to  the  arrangement,  and  in  due  time  the  following 
certificate  and  letters  were  placed  in  my  hands,  making  me  a 
voting  delegate  at  the  Philadelphia  Academy  of  Music  in  the 
National  Republican  Convention  of  1872  : 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE.  167 

City  of  Jefferson,  State  of  Missouri,  ) 
February  22d,  1872.  / 

This  certifies  that  at  a  Republican  State  Convention,  held  in  the  city  of 
Jefferson,  in  pursuance  to  a  call  issued  by  the  Republican  State  Executive 
Committee,  for  the  purpose  of  choosing  delegates  to  the  Republican  Na- 
tional Convention,  to  be  held  in  the  city  of  Philadelphia,  State  of  Pennsyl- 
vania, June  5th,  1872,  Hon.  Chauncey  I.  Filley  was  chosen  as  delegate  for 
the  First  Congressional  District  of  the  State  of  Missouri,  to  attend  said 
National  Convention.  Geo.  H.  Shields,  President. 

Theodore  Brown,  Secretary. 

Col.  JOHN  A.  JOYCE,  (*)  St.  Louis,  June  30,  1872. 

Philadelphia,  Pa. 

Dear  Sir :  I  hand  you  my  credential  and  request  to  Delega- 
tion to  make  you  my  proxy.  Yours,  etc., 

Chauncey  I.  Filley. 

I  had  gone  to  Philadelphia  among  the  first  of  the  Republic- 
ans who  departed  from  St.  Louis,  and  took  rooms  at  the  Con- 
tinental Hotel  which  Filley  had  previously  engaged.  I  was 
afraid  for  awhile  that  he  would  not  send  me  as  his  proxy.  The 
following  letter  shows  something  of  his  anxiety : 

St.  Louis,  June  2d,  1872. 
Col.  JOYCE  : 

The  chances  are  against  my  coming.  So  you  can  take  the  whole  of 
my  room  and  put  in  whom  you  choose.  If  I  should  come,  I  can  go  to  a 
friend's  house  and  stay  nights. 

I  am  looking  upon  you  as  my  friend,  and  the  friend  of  Republican  suc- 
cess. Henderson  will  not  leave  until  to-morrow,  Monday,  night.  I  may 
come  with  him,  but  don't  keep  the  room  for  me. 

Yours,  truly,  Chauncey  I.  Filley. 

Mr.  Filley  did  not  come  to  the  Convention  ;  his  obligations 
to  me,  and  his  shrewd  instinct  of  not  antagonizing  any  of  the 
elements  he  relied  on  to  put  him  in  the  St.  Louis  post-office, 
prevented  his  voting  as  a  delegate.  I  was  duly  elected  by  the 
delegation  on  the  proxy  given  me,  and  acted  as  Mr.  Filley's 
"friend  "  and  the  "friend  of  Republican  success"  from  the 
beginning  of  the  Grant  and  Wilson  campaign  until  its  tri- 
amphant  close.  Gen.  Henderson  arrived  at  the  Continental 

*  This  letter  in  Filley's  writing  (fac  simile)  appears  near  the  end  of  the  book. 


1 68  A  CHECKERED  L1EE. 

the  day  of  the  Convention,  and  as  all  the  rooms  were  crowded, 
I  shared  my  bed  with  him. 

Immediately  after  the  National  Convention,  Republican 
decks  were  cleared  for  action,  the  sinews  of  war  were  collected 
and  applied,  and  every  means  taken  to  defeat  the  Dolly  Varden 
Brindle  Pup  Liberal  -  Republican  -  Democratic  ticket,  led  by 
Greeley  and  Biown.  Of  course,  every  sensible  man  knew 
that  this  ticket  was  a  fraud  from  the  beginning,  and  as  such 
could  have  but  one  ending — ignominious  defeat.  In  Missouri, 
and  particularly  in  St.  Louis,  there  was  a  very  bitter  feeling 
against  Grant's  administration.  Brown,  Blair,  Schurz  and 
their  followers  were  rampant,  and  constantly  seeking  for  every 
straw  to  lay  in  the  way  of  Republican  success. 

A  meeting  of  the  State  Central  Committee  was  called,  and 
means  suggested  and  devised  for  raising  funds.  •  I  was  a  mem- 
ber of  the  committee  for  three  years,  representing  the  Third 
Congressional  District.  Hon.  Henry  T.  Blow,  the  chairman 
of  the  committee,  and  the  particular  friend  of  Gen.  Grant ; 
Wm.  McKee,  the  editor  and  proprietor  of  the  Democrat ;  Hon. 
Charles  W.  Ford,  an  intimate  friend  of  the  President,  the 
Supervisor  and  myself,  put  our  heads  and  hands  together,  and 
raised  what  was  known  in  the  campaign  as  "  the  silk  stocking 
fund  " — a  sum  of  money  amounting  to  thirty  thousand  dollars. 

This  was  to  be  expended  by  Grant's  personal  friends  in 
their  own  way,  and  while  the  State  Committee,  through  the  im- 
portunity of  Mr.  Filley,  endeavored  to  control  the  fund,  Mr. 
Blow  would  not  allow  it  to  use  any  of  the  money. 

The  "silk  stocking"  fund  was  raised  by  "voluntary  contri- 
butions" from  collectors,  assessors,  deputy  collectors,  assistant 
assessors,  agents,  storekeepers,  gaugers,  distillers,  rectifiers, 
liquor  dealers,  tobacco  and  cigar  manufacturers,  merchants, 
brewers,  lawyers,  doctors,  preachers,  and  from  any  citizen  who 
felt  an  interest  in  the  election  of  Gen.  Grant.  I  drew  up  the 
subscription-paper,  procured  the  bulk  of  the  contributions,  and 
turned  the  money  over  to  Hon.  Henry  T.  Blow,  who  doubtless 
put  it  where  it  did  the  most  good.  I  was  simply  a  bold,  exec- 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE.  r69 

utive  broad-ax  in  the  hands  of  my  many  personal  and  political 
friends,  and  never  failed  when  running  "the  machine"  to  hew 
to  the  line,  let  the  chips  fall  where  they  might. 

Mr.  Filley  was  not  satisfied  with  the  manner  in  which  the 
Central  Committee  ran  the  campaign,  and  after  consulting 
with  Gen.  Isaac  F.  Shepard,  E.  O.  Stanard,  E.  W.  Fox,  C.  A. 
Newcomb,  George  Bain  and  myself,  it  was  determined  to  or- 
ganize the  "  Missouri  Club,"  an  institution  that  did  practical 
yeoman  service  during  the  Presidential  campaign  of  1872. 

George  Bain,  a  shrewd  politician,  an  active  business  man, 
and  a  gentleman  of  undoubted  integrity  and  ability,was  chosen 
President  of  the  Club,  and  James  B.  Nicholson  was  made  the 
Recording  Secretary.  An  Executive  Committee  of  seven  was 
also  appointed. 

I  was  selected  as  Corresponding  Secretary,  and  received  and 
sent  out  all  the  campaign  literature.  Headquarters  were  located 
at  Temple  Hall,  corner  of  Fifth  and  Walnut  streets.  A  Vice- 
President  of  the  club  was  selected  from  each  of  the  congres- 
sional districts,  from  the  most  prominent  men  in  the  state. 

During  the  campaign  I  made  several  speeches,  wrote  numer- 
ous editorials  for  the  Democrat,  St.  Joseph  Herald  and  Kansas 
City  Journal,  and  sent  telegraphic  political  messages  to  the 
New  York  Times,  doing  every  legitimate  thing  in  my  power  to 
secure  the  success  of  the  Republican  party. 

The  November  battle  resulted,  as  all  know,  in  the  almost 
unanimous  election  of  Grant  and  Wilson,  burying  poor  Greeley 
beneath  an  avalanche  of  misfortune,  from  which  the  great  edit- 
or and  kind  heart  never  recovered,  but  went  to  his  grave  the 
victim  of  Liberal  hypocrites  and  his  own  vaulting  ambition  ! 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

DECORATION-DAY  AT  JEFFERSON  BARRACKS. 

In  the  spring  of  1873,  great  preparations  were  being  made 
to  celebrate  Decoration  Day  at  Jefferson  Barracks.  A  soldiers' 
meeting  was  held  at  the  court-house,  with  Hon.  Thomas  C. 
Fletcher  as  chairman.  I  had  often  thought  there  was  no  rea- 
son, in  good  morals  or  law,  that  prevented  the  Federal  and 
Confederate  soldiers  from  going  with  their  friends  to  the  last 
sad  resting-place  of  their  heroic  dead,  and  there  strewing  the 
brightest  and  sweetest  flowers. 

With  this  end  in  view,  I  offered  a  resolution  in  the  soldiers' 
meeting  to  invite  ex-Confederates  to  join  us  in  celebrating 
Decoration  Day  at  the  Barracks,  where  slept  about  ten  thousand 
heroes,  "blue,"  "gray"  and  "black."  A  number  in  the 
meeting  were  opposed  to  the  proposition,  but  after  a  warm  dis- 
cussion it  was  carried,  two  to  one.  Then  it  was  a  question 
whether  any  of  the  ex-Confederates  should  be  invited  to  speak 
from  the  platform  with  the  regular  orator  of  the  day.  I  in- 
sisted that  it  would  not  be  right  and  just  to  invite  them  to  par- 
ticipate without  extending  every  privilege  we  claimed  our- 
selves, and  that  in  fact,  such  men  as  Marmaduke,  Frost  and  Slay- 
back  would  spurn  our  invitation  with  contempt  unless  it  was 
given  with  the  broadest  spirit  of  liberality  and  common  brother- 
hood. The  committee  and  speaker  finally  selected  General 
John  B.  Gray  as  president  of  the  decoration  ceremonies ;  Gus- 
tave  Hienrich  as  the  German  speaker ;  Col.  A.  W.  Slayback, 
an  intellectual  and  gallant  ex-Confederate,  for  an  address,  and 
I  was  selected  to  deliver  the  regular  oration. 

Decoration  Day  with  its  May  blossoms  and  fragrant  memo- 
ries arrived,  and  to  the  National  Soldiers'  Cemetery  at  Jeffer- 

170 


CHECKERED  LIFE. 


171 


son  Barracks  there  went  forth  from  St.  Louis  ten  thousand 
beating  hearts  to  do  honor  to  the  heroic  dead  that  slumber 
forever  by  the  murmuring  waters  of  the  Mississippi. 

The  sun  shone  bright,  the  air  was  cool  and  clear,  the  shad- 
ows of  the  woods  came  and  went  over  the  modest  graves  like 
messengers  of  celestial  wing,  the  birds  sent  forth  their  sweetest 
songs,  the  grasshopper,  cricket  and  bee  joined  in  the  melan- 
choly hum  of  decoration,  and  all  nature  was  clothed  in  a  dark 
emerald  mantle  in  honor  of  the  immortal  dead. 

In  the  presence  of  ten  thousand  sympathetic,  beating  hearts 
from  the  ranks  of  the  "blue"  and  the  "gray"  I  delivered  the 
following  oration  : 

Ladies  and  Gentlemen  : 

Twelve  years  have  passed  since  the  old  flag  fell  at  Sumter. 
Eight  years  have  winged  their  flight  to  realms  of  eternity  since 
our  glorious  banner  rose  triumphant  at  Appomattox.  Four 
years  of  terrible  war  desolated  the  land,  blackened  the  homes 
and  crushed  the  hearts  of  millions  to  place  that  darling  symbol 
on  the  highest  pinnacle  of  Freedom's  temple,  and  perpetuate 
its  meaning  to  the  last  syllable  of  recorded  time.  Brave  men 
fought  and  died  to  preserve  us  a  nation.  This  day  we  assem- 
ble to  commemorate  the  event,  strew  upon  their  green  graves 
the  earliest  flowers  of  spring,  and  water  these  hillocks  of  patri- 
otism with  the  tears  of  affection.  This  day  we  devote  to  the 
memory  of  the  loved  and  lost,  who  offered  up  their  lives  as 
pledges  for  the  perpetuation  of  liberty.  Let  us,  the  survivors 
of  "  grim-visaged  war,"  renew  our  devotion  to  the  great  Re- 
public, and  swear  by  the  blood  of  our  dear  old  comrades  that 
the  "red,  white  and  blue,"  under  which  they  fought  and  died, 
shall  symbolize  forever.  All  freedom  for  all  men  ! 

Can  we  ever  forget  the  first  drum-beat  of  rebellion,  the  mus- 
ter, the  drill,  the  march,  the  bivouac,  the  charge,  the  bloody 
battle,  the  groans  of  the  dying,  and  the  pale  faces  of  the  dead  ? 
From  the  Manassas  to  Mission  Ridge,  from  Gettysburg  to 
Vicksburg,  from  Donaldson  to  Shiloh  and  Atlanta,  through 


I72  A  CHECKERED  LIFE. 

brake  and  brier,  flood  and  field,  swamp  and  forest,  the  boys  in 
blue,  led  by  the  greatest  warrior  of  modern  times,  kept  right 
on  in  the  path  of  duty,  and  at  last  planted  their  colors  over  the 
graves  of  the  boys  in  gray,  who  fell  bravely — victims  to  the 
Moloch  of  slavery. 

No  word  of  mine  shall  ever  impeach  the  bravery  and  sincer- 
ity of  those  who  fought  and  fell  for  the  sunny  South.  Like 
men  they  met  us  on  the  field  of  battle,  and  foot  to  foot  and 
hilt  to  hilt  they  acted  the  noble  part  of  soldiers.  We  were 
brothers  of  the  same  maternal  line,  and  God  grant  that  here- 
after we  may  kneel  at  the  same  shrine  and  worship  at  one  com- 
mon altar  of  law  and  liberty.  Here  let  us  dedicate  an  ever- 
lasting temple  to  heroism.  This  green  sward  shall  be  the 
mausoleum  of  heroic  hearts,  its  dome  the  bending  heavens,  and 
its  altar-candles  the  watching  stars  of  God.  Year  after  year 
let  us  assemble  at  this  Mecca,  and,  kneeling  by  the  graves  of 
brave  men,  let  the  living  clasp  hands  in  fervency  of  friendship, 
.and  strew  sweet  flowers  upon  the  moldering  remains  of  the 
blue  and  the  gray. 

"  From  the  silence  of  sorrowful  hours, 

Let  desolate  mourners  go, 
Lovingly  laden  with  flowers 

Alike  for  the  friend  and  the  foe, 
Under  the  sod  and  the  dew, 

Waiting  the  judgment  day ; 
Under  the  roses  the  Blue — 

Under  the  lilies  the  Gray." 

In  the  fight  for  Union  and  freedom  the  waters  of  the  Poto- 
mac were  crimsoned  with  the  life-blood  of  our  Eastern  brothers, 
and  the  majestic  river  flowing  at  the  foot  cf  these  graves  will 
murmur  forever  the  battle  glory  of  the  West  as  it  wends  its 
way  through  the  land  of  sun  and  flowers  to  the  surging  waters 
of  the  Gulf.  Upon  its  bosom  commercial  palaces  float,  unim- 
peded by  war,  from  the  Falls  of  St.  Anthony  to  the  Delta, 
taking  the  cereals,  minerals  and  wares  of  the  North  in  exchange 
for  the  cotton,  spices  and  fruits  of  the  South.  Blessed  be  the 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE. 


'73 


patriots,  now  sleeping  beneath  the  sod,  that  gave  us  by  their 
blood,  at  Island  No.  10,  Fort  Pillow,  Vicksburg,  Port  Hudson 
and  New  Orleans,  a  free  river  to  the  bounding  billows  of  the 
ocean.  Each  succeeding  year  will  add  new  laurels  to  their 
fame ;  and  as  the  Grecians  loved  to  ponder  upon  the  valor  of 
those  who  fell  at  Thermopylae,  so  shall  we,  by  chisel,  brushy 
harp  and  eloquent  tongue,  commemorate  the  glorious  deeds  of 
the  boys  in  blue,  and  transmit  their  names  to  generations  yet 
unborn. 

The  surviving  soldiers  of  Missouri,  and  those  who  loved  the 
Union,  can  never  forget  Wilson  Creek  and  the  bravery  of 
Lyon,  Lexington  and  glorious  Mulligan,  nor  the  daring  march 
of  Sigel  to  Rolla.  Patriots  from  the  blue  waters  of  the  Rhine 
and  the  green  banks  of  the  Shannon  stood  side  by  side  with 
the  native  sons  of  America  in  the  conflict  for  freedom  and  law ; 
and  wherever  the  battle  was  fierce  and  deadly,  there  could  be 
seen  the  flashing  sabre  of  Germania  reflecting  back  the  bris- 
tling bayonets  of  Erin  and  Columbia. 

The  emancipation  proclamation  of  the  martyr  Lincoln  gave 
to  our  arms  the  black  warriors  of  the  South,  and  on  a  hundred 
battle-fields  they  won,  by  the  price  of  their  blood,  the  right  to 
perfect  manhood.  Let  us  not  forget  that  the  bondsman  of  yes- 
terday is  the  freeman  of  to-day ;  and  while  we  strew  roses  on 
the  last  resting-place  of  the  blue  and  the  gray,  let  us  gener- 
ously drop  flowers  on  the  grave  of  the  black  soldier  who  fell 
for  freedom  and  his  native  land. 

While  we  decorate  the  graves  of  the  soldier  dead,  let  us  not 
forget  their  widows  and  orphans  who  gave  all  they  held  dear 
to  propitiate  the  demon  of  war.  We  must  minister  to  the  sup- 
port of  the  one  and  the  education  of  the  other,  and  prove  by 
good  works  to  the  living  that  it  is  truly  sweet  to  die  for  one's 
country. 

A  scene  during  the  late  struggle  I  shall  ever  remember — an 
epitome  of  the  whole  war.  It  was  in  June,  1864,  in  front  of 
Kenesaw  Mountain,  Georgia.  During  the  long,  weary  day 
Sherman  battled  with  Johnston,  and  step  by  step  drove  him 


174 


A  CHECKERED  LltE. 


from  the  field.  My  regiment  was  on  the  skirmish  line,  and 
just  as  the  sun  bid  good-bye  to  the  tree-tops  on  the  distant 
mountain,  a  desperate  fight  ensued — the  winking  stars  and  the 
silvery  moonlight  lighting  up  the  last  encounter.  Silence 
and  night  soon  hung  around  us.  A  few  chosen  comrades  and 
myself  went  to  the  front  to  reconnoitre.  Between  the  con- 
tending armies,  in  the  dense  underbrush  of  the  forest,  we  dis- 
covered two  soldiers  grappled  in  death,  the  struggling  light  of 
the  moon  dancing  upon  the  uniforms  of  the  gray  and  the  blue. 
A  hasty  search  could  only  discover  that  they  were  each  about 
twenty  years  of  age,  and  nothing  on  their  persons  to  tell  the 
story  of  their  lives.  We  quickly  and  quietly  fashioned  a  rude 
grave,  and,  side  by  side,  laid  them  to  sleep  until  the  trump  of 
the  Archangel  sounds  the  resurrection  morn,  when  the  blue 
and  the  gray  shall  be  crystalized  into  celestial  white  and  dwell 
together  in  blissful  immortality. 

"  Slowly  and  sadly  we  laid  them  down. 

From  the  field  of  their  fame  fresh  and  gory ; 
We  carved  not  a  line,  we  raised  not  a  stone, 

But  left  them  alone  in  their  glory." 

Who  will  care  for  these  loved  mounds  when  we  are  gone  ? 
Who  will  then  strew  roses  and  plant  bright  flowers  ?  Other  pa- 
triotic hands  of  brave  men  and  fair  women  will  take  up  the 
roll  of  duty ;  and  even  when  all  but  liberty  has  perished  from 
the  earth,  the  robin  and  the  blue-bird,  the  jay  and  the  mock- 
ing-bird will  warble  at  sunrise  a  reveille  over  the  green  sod 
that  wraps  this  sacred  clay.  Nature  herself  will  deck  the  graves 
of  our  fallen  comrades,  and  the  winds  of  heaven  will  chant  a 
requiem  to  their  memory  and  kiss  the  loved  spot  where  valor 
sleeps. 

Thousands  of  our  dearly  loved  comrades  rest  in  unknown 
graves  far  away  from  the  loved  ones  at  home.  They  slumber 
in  a  land  of  strangers,  where  the  tears  of  love  cannot  moisten 
the  green  shroud  that  mantles  their  ashes.  But  if  no  kind 
hand  is  there  to  strew  flowers,  or  loved  eye  to  shed  the  tear  of 
sorrow,  there  is  One  that  reigns  among  the  eternal  stars  that 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE.  I75 

daily  floods  the  unknown  grave  with  sunshine,  and   nightly 
waters  the  budding  wild  flowers  with  dews  from  heaven. 

To-day,  thank  God,  we  are  all  Americans,  protected  by  the 
same  flag,  representing  one  country  and  one  destiny.  We 
have  no  North,  no  South,  no  East,  no  West  \  naught  but  the 
priceless  heritage  of  Liberty  and  Union.  Let  our  friendships 
and  interests  be  as  lasting  as  the  eternal  hills,  so  that  peace 
and  material  prosperity  shall  crown  our  labor  and  spread  the 
cement  of  brotherly  love  and  union  from  the  surf-beaten  shores 
of  the  Carolinas  to  the  golden  boulders  of  California,  and 
from  the  lazy  lagoons  of  Louisiana  to  the  rock-bound  coast  of 
Massachusetts. 

"  Let  Summer  send  her  golden  sunbeams  down, 

In  graceful  salutations  for  the  dead, 
And  Autumn's  moving  host  of  leaflets  brown 
Break  ranks  above  the  fallen  soldier's  head. 

And  we,  survivors  of  the  fearful  strife, 
While  gathered  here  around  this  hallowed  clay, 

Let  us  anew  pledge  honor,  fortune,  life, 
That  from  our  flag  no  star  shall  pass  away. 

We  reverently  swear  by  all  we  love, 

By  all  we  are,  and  all  we  hope  to  be, 
Yon  starry  flag  man's  steadfast  friend  shall  prove, 

And  wave  forever  o'er  the  brave  and  free." 

General  John  S.  Marmaduke,  of  St.  Louis,  an  ex-Confed- 
erate officer,  wrote  me  a  letter  on  the  philosophy  and  propriety 
of  keeping  alive  the  memory  of  our  dead  heroes,  who  fought 
for  what  each  deemed  right ;  and  as  there  is  wisdom  and  pa- 
triotism in  what  the  gallant  General  says,  I  present  the  follow- 
ing extracts : 

''This  joint  memorial  ceremony — Federal  and  ex-Confeder- 
ate— for  the  purpose  of  decorating  the  graves  of  the  brave  who 
gave  up  their  lives  for  what  they  deemed  right,  is  to  my  mind 
a  wise,  patriotic  and  beautiful  act ;  and  that  those  who  fought 
under  the  blue,  the  victors,  should  invite  those  who  fought  un- 
der the  gray,  the  vanquished,  to  unite,  and  make  this  cere- 


176  A  CHECKERED  LIFE. 

mony  a  joint  one  for  the  dead  of  both  armies,  is  as  it  should 
be,  and  reflects  a  patriotic  purpose  creditable  alike  to  their 
head  and  heart,  which  I  believe  every  man  and  woman  who 
were  genuine  Federals  and  Confederates  will  respond  to  with 
their  whole  hearts. 

Both  sides  should  recognize  that  the  Confederates  surren- 
dered because  they  were  overpowered,  and  did  not  have  men  or 
money  enough  to  whip  in  the  fight,  and  for  no  other  reason. 
That  now  and  henceforth  the  men  who  worthily  wore  the 
"  gray"  are  ready  and  willing  to  march  side  by  side  with  the 
victors  of  the  "  blue,"  in  bearing  the  bayonets  and  banners  of 
the  United  States  to  other  victories  ! 

It  is  a  dangerous  folly  for  us  to  quarrel  over  the  past ;  let 
that  be  buried,  and  let  us  go  forward  with  our  new-born  nation. 
Those  who  were  nobly  in  earnest  should  feel  a  personal  pride 
in  the  army  heroism  of  either  side.  It  was  American  pluck,  to 
which  each  side  contributed  to  an  extent  that  challenged  the 
admiration  of  the  world,  and  which  the  United  States  should 
claim  and  hold  as  valued  property. 

Let  these  decoration  ceremonies  be  free  from  all  partisan  sig- 
nifications. Let  them  be  the  Nation's  worship — her  floral 
tribute  to  her  brave  dead  ! ' ' 

The  sentiments  engrafted  in  the  foregoing  paragraphs  by 
General  Marmaduke  are  worthy  of  the  brave  and  honest  soul 
that  inspired  them ;  and  if  we  are  to  live  a  thousand  years  as 
one  Republic,  each  integral  part  of  the  Nation  must  act  for  the 
equality  and  liberty  of  the  whole,  leaving  no  scar  of  discrimi- 
nation to  irritate  the  body,  or  rankle  in  the  soul. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

I    MAKE  AN    EFFORT  TO    OBTAIN    A    FOREIGN    MISSION. ORATION 

AT  AN  EMANCIPATION  CELEBRATION. 

In  the  spring  and  summer  of  1873,  I  conceived  the  idea  that 
I  wanted  a  better  place  than  the  post  of  Revenue  Agent.  In 
fact,  like  all  great  (?)  men,  I  wished  a  foreign  mission,  where 
the  work  would  be  light  and  the  pay  large.  As  I  had  performed 
yeoman  service  during  the  Grant  campaign,  I  applied  to  the 
men  who  controlled  political  matters  in  Missouri,  and  received 
the  most  cordial  letters  and  recommendations  to  President 
Grant,  from  which  I  select  the  following  extracts. 

Hon.  William  Patrick,  United  States  District  Attorney,  said : 
"  I  desire  to  bear  testimony  to  Joyce's  public  and  private  services.  In 
the  last  campaign,  he,  as  a  member  of  the  Republican  Central  Committee 
of  the  State,  as  Corresponding  Secretary  of  the  Missouri  Club,  as  a  public 
speaker  and  writer,  rendered  very  valuable  assistance  to  the  Republican 
ticket.  Col.  Joyce  has  made  a  faithful  officer,  and  has  always  been  prompt 
and  willing  to  give  any  information  or  perform  any  duty  required  by  the 
office.  I  have  every  confidence  that  the  duties  of  any  position  in  which  he 
may  be  placed  will  be  performed  by  him  with  ability,  integrity,  and  credit 
to  the  administration." 

George  W.  Fishbeck,  one  of  the  editors  and  proprietors  of 
the  St.  Louis  Democrat,  said  : 

"  Please  let  me  add  my  word  in  commendation  of  the  eminent  services 
performed  by  Col.  Joyce  in  this  city  and  state  during  the  canvass  of  last 
year;  and  permit  me  to  say  that  any  promotion  you  may  see  fit  to  give  him 
will  be  most  heartily  approved  by  your  friends  in  this  city." 

Gen.  Isaac  F.  Shepard,  the  Appraiser  of  Customs  for  the 
port  of  St.  Louis,  said  : 

"  I  have  known  Col.  John  A.  Joyce  personally  for  two  years  or  more, 
and  have  been  associated  with  him  in  political  matters  quite  intimately, 

177  12 


I78  A  CHECKERED  LIfE. 

During  the  last  campaign,  he  was  for  a  portion  of  the  time  a  member  of  the 
State  Central  Committee,  and  also  Corresponding  Secretary  of  the  Missouri 
Club.  In  his  private  as  well  as  public  capacity  he  has  been  an  unwavering 
friend  of  Republican  principles  and  an  unflinching  devotee  to  your  admin- 
istration. He  has  more  than  a  common  culture,  with  many  fine  gifts,  and 
I  cordially  commend  him  to  your  favorable  consideration  in  any  contingency 
that  may  occur  to  your  Excellency  to  the  advancement  of  his  interests." 

Hon.  E.  W.  Fox,  Surveyor  and  Collector  of  Customs  for 
St.  Louis,  and  former  Chairman  of  the  Republican  State  Cen- 
tral Committee,  a  gentleman  of  fine  culture  and  ripe  experi- 
ence, said  : 

"  I  take  great  pleasure  in  presenting  to  your  most  favorable  consideration, 
Col.  John  A.  Joyce,  who,  in  addition  to  discharging  with  signal  ability  his 
duties  as  Chief  Clerk  and  Revenue  Agent  in  the  Supervisor's  office,  has 
been  one  of  the  most  active,  intelligent  and  sagacious  workers  for  the  Re- 
publican cause  in  Missouri. 

As  member  of  the  State  Central  Committee,  as  Corresponding  Secretary 
of  the  Missouri  Club,  and  as  a  constant  contributor  to  the  party  press  of  the 
state,  he  has  well  earned  the  confidence  and  best  wishes  of  the  true  Repub- 
licans of  the  Western  States. 

I  heartily  recommend  him  to  advancement  in  the  country's  service,  and 
am  sure  that  his  talents  and  integrity  eminently  fit  him  to  represent  the  Na- 
tion at  foreign  posts.  I  feel  assured  that  whatever  position  you  may  bestow 
upon  him,  he  will  discharge  his  duty  with  credit  to  himself  and  honor 
to  his  country." 

Col.  A.  R.  Easton,  Assessor  of  Internal  Revenue,  said  : 
"  During  the  recent  campaign,  Col.  Joyce  rendered  valuable  service  to 
your  administration  by  his  energy  and  sound  judgment  as  a  member  of 
the  Republican  State  Central  Committee,  Secretary  of  the  Missouri  Club, 
and  writer  for  the  press  of  this  and  other  states.  He  is  a  young  man 
of  superior  ability,  a  good  speaker  and  fine  writer,  and  I  am  sure  he  will 
serve  the  Government  faithfully  in  any  position  for  which  he  may  be 
selected.'' 

Col.  C.  A.  Newcomb,  United  States  Marshal,  said : 
"  I  have  known  Col.  Joyce  for  four  years,  and  have  been  associated  with 
him  personally  and  officially,  and  take  great  pleasure  in  bearing  witness  to 
his  efficiency  as  an  officer  and  merit  as  a  man. 

No  person  connected  with  the  Civil  Service  of  the  Government  here  has 
been  more  watchful  of  its  honor  than  he ;  always  quick  to  discover  a  wrong 
or  irregularity  in  the  service,  and  equally  prompt  to  apply  the  remedy. 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE.  ljg 

Col.  Joyce  is  a  man  of  fine  culture  and  large  business  capacity.  It  would 
be  a  great  satisfaction  to  himself  and  his  friends  if  he  could  be  employed 
in  a  more  lucrative  position  than  the  one  he  now  fills." 

Hon.  Chester  H.  Krum,  ex-United  States  District  Attorney, 
and  Judge  of  the  Circuit  Court  of  St.  Louis,  said : 

"  Republicans  in  this  state  have  substantial  reasons  for  feeling  under  obli- 
gations to  Col.  Joyce  for  his  industry,  energy  and  zeal  in  harmonizing  oppos- 
ing elements,  and  thus  presenting  a  united  front  to  the  political  enemy.  I 
have  yet  to  learn  that  a  single  act  of  omission  can  truthfully  be  charged  to 
Col.  Joyce  during  the  campaign  of  1872. 

During  my  own  experience  as  United  States  Attorney  for  this  Judicial 
District,  I  had  many  occasions  to  remark  the  faithful  discharge  of  Colonel 
Joyce's  duties  as  a  revenue  offier.  Although  he  came  here  quite  a  stranger, 
he  soon  gained  a  large  acquaintance.  Having  had  large  experience  in  bu- 
reau duties,  he  was  well  qualified  to  give,  and  freely  gave,  valuable  assist- 
ance to  efforts  made  for  the  detection  of  crime  and  the  enforcement  of  the 
revenue  laws.  He  was  quick  in  expedients,  and  prompt  in  their  execution. 
To  these  qualities  he  added  fearlessness  and  substantial  business  habits. 

As  I  have  left  a  field  of  service  which  I  shall  always  look  back  upon 
with  pleasure  as  having  been  opened  to  me  through  your  indulgence  and 
confidence,  I  beg  leave  to  add  my  testimony  to  the  well-deserved  assurances 
of  Col.  Joyce's  fidelity,  competency  and  zeal  as  an  officer  of  the  Revenue 
Department,  which  he  has  won  and  received  during  his  residence  in  this 
state." 

Hon.  Chauncey  I.  Filley,  ex-Postmaster  of  St.  Louis,  and  a 
noted  political  wire-worker,  said : 

"  My  acquaintance  with  Col.  Joyce  justifies  me  in  saying  that  he  has  abil- 
ities of  moie  than  an  ordinary  character,  which  fit  him  for  a  better  position 
than  he  is  now  holding.  He  has  been  an  active  and  judicious  participator 
in  events  here  to  promote  the  interests  of  the  service  and  of  the  party,  and 
has  always  been  ready  in  action  and  work,  and  otherwise;  and  since  the 
campaign  has  not  allowed  the  grass  to  grow  under  his  feet  in  matters  which 
eventuated  in  advancing  the  interests  of  the  cause. 

Col.  Joyce  rendered  valuable  service  as  Secretary  of  the  Missouri  Club, 
as  well  as  a  member  of  the  State  Central  Committee,  and  his  work  has 
come  under  my  personal  observation.  He  is  a  ready  and  apt  writer,  and 
has  not  been  idle  in  that  way ;  and  I  commend  him  to  your  best  consider- 
ation." 

In  August,  1873,  a  change  in  the  revenue  laws  made  it  nec- 
essary for  the  collectors  throughout  the  country  to  assume  the 


-l So  ^  CHECKERED  LIFE. 

duties  previously  performed  by  assessors,  thereby  imposing  ad- 
ditional work  upon  them.  Collector  C.  W.  Ford,  of  St.  Louis, 
an  intimate  personal  friend  of  Gen.  Grant,  was  much  annoyed 
because  the  Department  would  not  allow  him  proper  and  just 
compensation  in  the  premises.  After  his  efforts  had  failed,  he 
applied  to  me,  and  in  due  time  I  convinced  the  revenue  office 
that  Ford's  application  for  extra  compensation  was  just.  The 
following  extract  from  a  long  letter  shows  his  anxiety : 

"  I  shall  be  under  many  obligations  to  you  if  you  will  put  this  letter 
among  your  papers,  and  when  you  get  to  Washington  bring  the  facts  before 
Commissioner  Douglas,  and  get  the  proper  allowance  made. 

Col.  Easton,  the  late  Assessor,  says  he  received  no  pay  for  March,  and 
would  be  greatly  obliged  if  you  will  look  after  it  for  him. 

I  get  away  from  here  Monday  night,  for  Monroe,  Mich.,  and  will  drop 
you  a  line  from  there,  to  let  you  know  when  I  go  to  Long  Branch." 

On  the  2d  of  September,  1873,  wnile  Collector  Ford  was 
receiving  the  hospitality  of  President  Grant  at  his  Long  Branch 
cottage,  I  received  another  letter,  from  which  I  extract  the 
following : 

"  I  wrote  you  three  letters  to  Boonville,  N.  Y.,  and  the  day  before  I 
left  Sackett's  Harbor  I  telegraphed  to  Boonville  to  find  your  where- 
abouts, and  learned  you  were  at  the  Fifth  Avenue  Hotel;  but  when  I 
applied  there  you  were  non  est.  I  was  sure  I'd  get  you  here,  but  nix. 
You  had  gone  to  Washington,  and  are  now  on  your  way  to  St.  Louis, 
so  I  give  up  the  chase. 

I  hope  you  have  been  successful  in  getting  the  Commissioner  to  make 
me  proper  allowances.  I  don't  know  how  long  I  may  remain  here,  but 
two  or  three  days,  I  reckon,  will  find  me  on  my  way  to  New  York." 

I  have  several  other  letters  from  the  late  Captain  Ford,  but 
as  they  refer  mainly  to  matters  of  no  interest  to  the  public,  I 
omit  them.  In  the  latter  part  of  October,  1873,  Capt.  Ford 
visited  Toledo  to  attend  a  meeting  of  the  Army  of  the  Ten- 
nessee, and  consult  with  Gen.  Grant  relative  to  his  entering 
the  Cabinet  as  Secretary  of  the  Interior.  But  fate  broke  the 
last  link  in  his  life-chain  on  the  24th  of  October,  1873,  and  he 
died  in  Chicago,  from  a  severe  cold  contracted  on  his  trip  to 
Toledo. 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE.  jgr 

Ford  was  a  man  of  kind  impulses.  He  had  been  for  many 
years  agent  of  the  United  States  Express  Company,  and  per- 
formed the  duties  of  that  important  post  with  energy,  capacity 
and  honesty ;  and  when  President  Grant  called  him  to  the 
post  of  Collector  of  Internal  Revenue,  he  brought  the  same 
business  principles  to  bear,  making  the  best  Collector  that  St. 
Louis  ever  had. 

I  knew  Ford  intimately ;  and  while  he  would  do  any  legit- 
imate political  thing  to  advance  the  cause  of  his  old  friend, 
President  Grant,  I  am  absolutely  convinced  that  he  never, 
either  directly  or  indirectly,  winked  at  or  had  knowledge  of 
any  whiskey  frauds  on  the  revenue,  although  his  confidence 
may  have  been  abused  by  his  chief  clerk  and  subordinates. 


In  August,  1873,  I  delivered  the  following  oration  before  five 
thousand  colored  people  at  St.  Louis,  on  the  occasion  of  their 
emancipation  celebration : 
Fellow  Citizens  : 

The  emancipation  of  an  enslaved  race  is  a  theme  fit  to  be 
couched  in  noble  eloquence,  monumented  in  bronze,  and  sent 
to  the  latest  posterity  in  poetry  and  song.  From  the  earliest 
dawn  of  creation,  when  the  morning  stars  sang  together,  human 
thoughts  and  human  action  lingered  at  the  shrine  of  freedom; 
and  even  in  the  night  of  Egyptian  darkness  and  bondage,  the 
sweet  paeans  of  liberty  sounded  in  the  soul  of  man  and  found 
a  responsive  echo  in  the  celestial  realms  of  the  angels. 

God,  in  his  infinite  wisdom,  created  all  men  free,  and  it 
was  only  tyrants  who  could  forge  the  chains  of  slavery  and  find 
consolation  in  the  sharp  music  of  the  lash.  Ignorance,  sel- 
fishness and  fear  make  a  man  a  tyrant,  while  intelligence,  be- 
nevolence and  love  fit  him  for  the  priceless  blessings  of  freedom 
in  this  world,  and  open  a  way  to  his  eternal  home  beyond  the 
sun  and  stars. 

The  celebration  of  this  day  will  bring  vividly  to  your  mind 
the  trials  and  tribulations  and  victories  achieved  by  your  race 
in  the  West  India  Islands,  where  the  genius  of  Toussaint 


I%2  A  CHECKERED  LIFE. 

L'Ouverture  held  at  bay  the  cruelties  of  the  proud  Spaniard, 
and  even  foiled  the  expectations  of  the  great  Napoleon.  The 
pen  and  voice  of  L'Ouverture  exposed  the  flimsy  pretense  of 
slavery,  and  his  flashing  sword  cut  in  twain  the  Gordian  knot  of 
despotism  and  initiated  the  first  successful  emancipation  move- 
ment. To-day,  in  the  mountain  cabins  of  Hayti  and  San  Do- 
mingo, the  name  of  this  apostle  of  liberty  is  sounded  with  love 
and  veneration,  and  as  the  circling  years  go  by,  the  fame  of 
Toussaint  L'Ouverture  will  grow  brighter  until  every  human 
heart  pulsates  with  the  sublime  sentiments  that  actuated  him  in 
life,  and  made  him  a  conqueror  even  in  the  torturing  hours  of 
death  in  the  dungeon  of  the  tyrant.  The  clanking  chains  of 
Napoleon  and  the  excruciating  pangs  of  cold,  thirst  and  hun- 
ger could  not  subdue  the  proud  spirit  of  the  black  warrior  and 
statesman.  His  free  soul  and  glorious  nature  triumphed  over 
the  grave ;  and  long  after  you  and  I  are  consigned  to  the  dust 
from  whence  we  sprung,  this  hero  of  San  Domingo  will  live  in 
monumental  greatness,  and  inspire  the  world  with  his  example. 
L'Ouverture  laid  broad  and  deep  the  foundation  of  the  Re- 
public of  San  Domingo,  and  the  day  is  near  when  the  stars  and 
stripes  shall  float  over  the  land  he  died  to  save.  God  will 
work  in  his  mysterious  way,  until  the  continent  of  Africa  shall 
be  disenthralled  from  the  darkness  of  ignorance  and  slavery, 
when  one  universal  republic  shall  bless  the  world  and  realize 
the  fondest  hopes  of  the  human  heart.  The  wail  of  oppressed 
humanity  comes  sounding  down  the  centuries  ;  the  cry  for  lib- 
erty a^.d  light  is  wafted  to  us  in  every  breeze  that  blows  from 
ocean's  boundless  shores. 

"Hark  !  our  brothers  call, 

From  Greenland's  icy  mountains, 

From  India's  coral  strand ; 

Where  Afric's  sunny  fountains 

Roll  down  their  golden  sand. 

From  many  an  ancient  river ; 

From  many  a  palmy  plain  ; 

They  call  us  to  deliver 

Their  land  from  error's  chain." 


A   CHECKERED  LIFE.  183 

Iii  the  year  1620,  two  hundred  and  fifty-three  years  ago, forty- 
five  slaves  were  landed  on  the  James  River  in  Virginia,  forced 
from  the  coast  of  Africa  and  sold  into  bondage  to  cultivate  the 
plantations  of  the  Old  Dominion.  From  this  < '  direful  spring' ' 
Columbia  has  suffered  more  unnumbered  woes  than  Achilles' 
wrath  brought  to  Greece.  I  can  see  now  in  the  jungles  of 
Africa  the  fierce  spirit  of  Caucasian  cupidity  hunting  down  the 
first  load  of  human  freight.  The  simple  life  of  the  black  man 
in  his  native  wilds  knew  no  master  but  his  God,  pictured  in 
the  rising  sun,  and  smiling  in  the  blue  waters  of  the  Nile  and 
Ganges. 

I  see  that  fatal  ship  stealing  quietly  out  from  the  golden 
sands  of  Africa,  speeding  on  its  way  to  America  freighted  with 
human  misery  and  terrible  grief.  Would  to  God  that  she  had 
sunk  to  the  bottom  of  the  ocean,  and  buried  forever  even  the 
just  and  the  unjust,  ere  her  prow  touched  the  shores  of  Vir- 
ginia, and  began  that  reign  of  slavery  that  cursed  our  country 
and  culminated  in  the  great  conflict  of  1861. 

Great  crimes  deserve  great  punishment,  and  fearful  has  been 
our  retribution.  Two  millions  of  human  lives  were  sacrificed 
to  purchase  the  emancipation  of  American  slavery,  and  to-day 
the  tears  of  the  widows  and  orphans  flow  at  the  mention  of 
those  loved  hearts  that  went  down  into  the  dark  valley  of  death 
in  the  musical  whiz  of  the  Minie  rifle,  or  the  roar  of  the  Rod- 
man gun  ! 

The  colored  people  of  this  nation  have  great  cause  to  boast 
of  the  deeds  of  their  heroes.  The  first  blood  shed  in  the 
American  revolution  was  that  of  the  slave  Crispus  Attucks,  of 
Boston,  Massachusetts.  In  the  massacre  of  March  5,  1770,  in 
an  assault  upon  the  British  soldiers  he  fell  for  freedom  and  his 
native  land.  The  blood  of  the  slave  has  nourished  the  tree  of 
liberty,  and  under  its  wide-spreading  branches  you  sit  to-day 
basking  in  the  sunshine  of  equal  rights,  proud  of  your  citizen- 
ship and  ready  at  all  times  to  strike  for 

"  The  land  of  the  free 
And  the  home  of  the  brave  !" 


1 84  ^  CHECKERED  LIFE. 

The  freedom  of  American  slavery  required  long  years  of  ed 
ucation  and  toil.  Adams,  Jefferson,  Clay,  Garrison  and  Phil- 
lips dug  from  the  mountains  the  crude  ore  of  liberty ;  but  it 
was  left  to  Lincoln,  Seward  and  Grant  to  put  it  through  the 
furnace-heat  of  the  rebellion  and  forge  out  the  trip-hammer 
that  knocked  forever  the  rusty  shackles  from  four  millions  of 
slaves.  The  emancipation  proclamation  of  Abraham  Lincoln 
broke  the  back  of  the  rebellion.  Its  thunder-tones  will  go 
sounding  down  the  ages,  and  the  lightning  flash  of  each  sen- 
tence will  irradiate  the  rugged  road  of  the  human  race  and 
light  up  the  darkest  nooks  of  imperial  government.  The  mem- 
ory of  Lincoln  will  live  as  long  as  human  hearts  pulsate  with 
love  of  liberty. 

Rooted  firmly  and  deeply  in  the  rifted  rocks  of  time  shall  be 
his  temple  of  everlasting  glory.  The  mountains  of  Columbia 
lifting  their  heads  into  the  boundless  blue,  and  the  murmuring 
rivers  of  the  continent,  shall  mingle  forever  with  his  fame  ;  but 
the  noblest  monument  to  his  memory  are  the  four  million 
shackles  struck  from  the  galling  limbs  of  the  bondsman.  Al- 
ready the  lesson  of  the  proclamation  has  found  its  way  to  the 
plains  of  the  Amazon  and  the  bleak  regions  of  the  Ural  moun- 
tains, where  twenty  million  Russian  serfs  breathe  at  last  the 
pure  air  of  freedom.  So  shall  the  example  of  the  immortal 
Lincoln  continue  to  bless  the  human  race,  until,  crowned  with 
the  diadem  of  liberty,  we  shall  acknowledge  the  image  of  God 
in  all  men,  and  pluck  from  the  calendar  of  our  hearts  the  de- 
mon of  caste  and  persecution. 

From  my  earliest  years  I  hated  the  very  name  of  slavery. 
The  word  burned  upon  my  tongue  and  blistered  in  my  heart. 
Even  as  a  boy,  in  the  land  of  Clay,  I  sighed  for  the  hour  to 
strike  at  the  hell-born  iniquity ;  and  when  the  clash  of  arms 
came  I  went  out  to  battle  for  the  perpetuation  of  the  Union 
and  the  freedom  of  the  slave.  The  first  shot  at  Sumter  sounded 
the  death-knell  of  slavery,  and  it  will  echo  in  the  hearts  of 
generations  yet  unborn,  until  every  land  and  clime  hears  the 
sweet  songs  of  liberty,  and  joins  in  the  chorus  of  equality. 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE.  185 

Your  own  stout  arms  and  valiant  hearts  struggled  in  the 
cause  of  freedom.  Port  Hudson  and  Fort  Wagner  will  long 
be  remembered  as  the  bloodiest  battles  of  the  war,  where  the 
First  Louisiana  and  Fifty-fourth  Massachusetts  colored  regi- 
ments fought  with  terrible  desperation,  and  made  a  page  in 
American  history  that  will  transmit  the  glory  of  the  black 
warrior  to  the  last  symbol  of  recorded  time. 

Since  the  close  of  the  war  the  behavior  of  the  black  man  has 
been  truly  remarkable,  for  never  in  the  history  of  the  world 
did  men  come  up  so  quick  out  of  the  dark  forests  of  ignorance 
and  bondage,  and  show  such  capacity  for  civil  life  and  consti- 
tutional freedom.  Lift  up  your  eyes  and  hearts  to  God,  and 
never  despair.  Seven  centuries  ago  the  Caucasian  race  was 
wandering  half  naked  in  the  black  forests  of  Germany,  and  th 
Scots  and  Picts  of  proud  Albion  were  little  above  the  wild  ani- 
mals that  furnished  their  food  and  raiment. 

In  the  Senate  of  the  United  States  and  lower  house  of  Con- 
gress, representatives  of  your  race  have  sat  side  by  side  with 
white  men,  and  have  maintained  their  independence  and  man- 
hood. To-day  you.  stand  upon  the  same  political  platform 
with  the  greatest  and  best  of  your  white  fellow  citizens,  and 
even  those  who  once  held  you  in  bondage  have  become  rec- 
onciled to  the  logic  of  events.  Forget,  if  you  can,  the  cruel- 
ties of  slavery  in  the  gratitude  you  owe  the  nation  for  clothing 
you  with  the  inestimable  power  of  the  ballot — 
•'A  weapon  that  comes  down  as  still 

As  snow-flakes  falling  on  the  sod, 
And  executes  a  freeman's  will 

As  lightning  does  the  will  of  God  !  " 

In  conclusion,  let  me  impress  upon  you  the  great  importance 
of  temperance,  economy,  education  and  peaceful  conduct  to- 
ward your  neighbors.  Whether  as  laborers,  mechanics,  mer- 
chants or  professionals,  you  must  rely  upon  yourselves,  and  by 
untiring  perseverance  and  honesty  procure  a  home,  where  the 
blessings  of  peace  and  prosperity  shall  crown  the  evening  of 
life,  and  give  you  a  taste  of  that  immortal  happiness  found  only 
in  the  beautiful  land  around  the  white  throne  of  Jehovah,  where 
the  angels  always  sing  and  the  light  of  heaven  shines  eternal. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

THE  PACIFIC  COAST. EXPERIENCES  AND  INCIDENTS  IN  CALIFOR- 
NIA, OREGON   AND  WASHINGTON  TERRITORY. 

In  the  spring  of  1874,  I  received  orders  from  Hon.  J.  W. 
Douglas,  Commissioner  of  Internal  Revenue,  to  proceed  to 
San  Francisco  and  make  a  thorough  investigation  of  the  oper- 
ation and  enforcement  of  the  revenue  laws  on  the  Pacific  Coast. 
Frequent  complaints  came  from  San  Francisco  that  the  distil- 
lers and  rectifiers  of  that  locality  were  defrauding  the  Govern- 
ment out  of  taxes  on  spirits,  and  that  some  of  the  revenue 
officers  were  in  collusion  with  the  whiskey  men. 

Several  revenue  agents  had  been  sent  to  the  Pacific  Coast, 
from  time  to  time,  but  their  efforts  to  bring  the  violators  of 
law  to  justice  proved  abortive,  because,  they  alleged,  nearly 
alFof  the  United  States  officers  in  San  Francisco  were  more  o*" 
less  in  collusion  with  the  rich  distillers  and  whiskey-traders, 
who  put  up  their  money  in  political  campaigns  to  make  and 
unmake  congressmen,  governors  and  senators.  Be  this  as  it 
may,  the  so-called  Pacific  Coast  Whiskey -Ring  were  "too 
smart"  for  the  "minions"  of  Uncle  Sam,  and  they  only  went 
in  the  front  door  of  the  United  States  Court  with  a  wink  and 
a  laugh  at  the  prosecution,  to  come  out  at  the  back  door  with 
their  satirical  tongues  wagging  defiance  at  the  foiled  revenue 
agents. 

I  made  a  careful  investigation  of  the  working  of  the  revenue 
laws  on  the  Pacific  Coast,  embracing  the  collection  districts 
of  California,  Oregon  and  Washington  Territory.  For  nearly 
three  months  I  traveled  through  the  country  towns  and  cities 
of  the  Coast,  taking  memoranda  of  my  investigations ;  and 

1 86 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE.  187 

from  the  orange  groves  of  Los  Angeles  to  the  falls  of  the  Co- 
lum-bia  River  beyond  Portland,  and  on  to  the  solemn  waters 
of  Puget  Sound,  through  the  pine  lumber  region  of  Tacomar 
Seattle  and  Port  Townsend.     I  left  no  subject  of  revenue  un- 
touched, examining  offices  and  business  houses  wherever  I  went. 
Supervisor  L.  M.  Foulke  accompanied  me  in  my   tour,  and 
rendered  every  assistance  I  desired.     He  was  a  man  of  very 
few  words,  but  with  a  fine  vein  of  humor. 

After  a  full  investigation  in  Oregon  and  Washington  Terri- 
tory, instead  of  taking  an  ocean  steamer  at  Portland  for  Sai> 
Francisco,  I  took  the  cars  for  Roseburg,  and  thence  overland 
by  stage — a  distance  of  three  hundred  miles — through  the  Pitt 
and  Snake  River  valleys  to  the  golden  gulches  of  California. 
The  ride  was  one  of  the  most  romantic  I  ever  had.  Wind- 
ing around  the  crest  of  some  rugged  crag  toppling  far  above 
Snake  River,  as  the  morning  sun  bathes  the  world  in  glory r 
you  may  gaze  away  for  a  hundred  miles  through  the  transpar- 
ent atmosphere,  and  see  the  blue  peaks  of  the  tallest  mount- 
ains capped  with  eternal  snow  above  the  floating  clouds,  like 
Titanic  ghosts  of  buried  centuries.  Then  shorten  the  vision 
to  hill,  crag,  valley,  tree,  water-fall,  blooming  wild  flowers, 
and  warbling  birds,  together  with  the  downward  rush  of  the 
break-neck  stage,  and  you  have  a  sensation  of  life  and  romance 
that  spurns  danger,  and  sweeps  away  like  a  mountain  eagle 
among  the  peaks  of  his  native  home. 

I  arrived  in  due  time  at  San  Francisco,  and  wrote  up  my 
investigations,  making  a  voluminous  report  in  detail  of  the 
violations  of  law  discovered  during  my  examination.  If  the 
Commissioner  of  Internal  Revenue  ever  succeeded  in  bringing 
them  to  justice  and  punishment,  I  never  heard  of  it ;  and  per- 
haps, after  all,  the  prophecy  of  De  Young,  of  the  Chronicle^ 
was  fulfilled — that  my  official  report  would  not  amount  to  any- 
thing, but  would  be  ignored  and  pigeon-holed  in  the  interests 
of  powerful  politicians.  However,  I  performed  my  duty,  and 
left  the  balance  to  the  consideration  of  superior  officers  in  the 
Treasury  Department. 


1 88  A  CHECKERED  LIFE. 

A  breakfast  at  the  Cliff  House  is  one  of  the  memorable 
milestones  of  a  trip  to  the  Pacific  Coast.  I  took  the  reins  of 
a  double  team,  and  accompanied  by  a  beautiful  and  intelligent 
lady  from  the  East,  who  was  stopping  at  the  Grand  Hotel, 
proceeded  to  the  celebrated  resort.  Out  Market  Street,  by  the 
old  Mission,  through  the  park,  over  a  succession  of  rolling 
hills,  up  winding  roads,  and  along  precipitous  crags  to  the  top 
of  mountain  spurs  that  overlooked  the  Ocean  House  and  the 
golden  sand-hills  that  sparkled  down  the  coast  as  far  as  the  eye 
could  reach,  we  rode  in  the  exhilarating  air.  On  the  crest  of 
the  highest  hill  of  those  that  margin  San  Francisco  with  an 
emerald  frame,  I  looked  back  in  amazement  at  the  silent  city 
rising  from  its  silver  couch  in  the  sparkling  waters  of  the  beau- 
tiful bay. 

On  we  went,  by  winding  road,  sandy  foot-hills,  and  yellow 
beach,  until  the  tumbling  waters  of  the  Pacific  dashed  in  mu- 
sical spray  against  the  rocky  base  of  the  Cliff  House. 

After  a  refreshing  breakfast,  we  turned  our  faces  towards  the 
city,  over  a  broad  gravel  road  as  smooth  as  a  floor,  rising  and 
falling  with  undulating  swells  like  the  broad-backed  billows  of 
the  ocean.  Toward  the  right  is  the  Catholic  cemetery,  nestled 
among  the  foot-hills,  and  on  the  left  Lone  Mountain  Cemetery, 
overlooking  San  Francisco,  with  a  glimpse  of  bay  and  ocean 
in  the  shining  distance. 

Lone  Mountain  shadows  the  graves  of  Senator  Broderick 
and  General  Baker ;  one  the  victim  of  Duke  Guinn,  Terry  and 
slavery,  while  the  other  lost  his  noble  life  at  Ball's  Bluff  fight- 
ing for  Freedom  and  the  Union.  They  rest  almost  side  by 
side.  Many  pilgrims  from  home  and  foreign  lands  will  love 
to  dwell  upon  the  memory  of  these  brave  patriots  who  fell  for 
Liberty ;  and  as  long  as  the  rivers  and  mountains  of  Oregon 
embrace  the  golden  streams  of  California,  Baker  and  Broder- 
ick will  live  in  the  hearts  of  the  good  and  true,  shining  as 
beacon  lights  to  irradiate  the  pathway  of  progress. 

"Not  in  vain  the  distant  beacons;  forward,  forward,  let  us  range ! 
Let  the  great  world  spin  forever  down  the  ringing  grooves  of  change." 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE.  ^9 

Previous  to  leaving  St.  Louis  for  the  Pacific  coast,  I  prom- 
ised the  editor  to  write  a  series  of  descriptive  letters  for  the 
Globe-Democrat;  and,  as  they  dropped  fresh  from  my  pen,  I 
engraft  them  in  this  volume  just  as  they  were  written,  believing 
that  the  reader  will  be  better  pleased  than  if  I  revamped  them 
now  from  the  encrusted  fields  of  memory. 

SCENES    AND    INCIDENTS    OF    A    TRIP   TO    THE    PACIFIC. 
Correspondence  St.  Louis  Globe- Democrat. 

San  Francisco,  CaL,  March  25,  1864. 

The  readers  of  the  Globe  have  no  doubt  often  wished  them- 
selves on  the  golden  sands  of  the  Pacific ;  and  to  those  who 
have  never  made  the  overland  trip,  I  hereby  extend  an  invita- 
tion, insisting  only  that  their  imagination  and  good  will  shall 
follow  me  through  the  serpentine  windings  of  the  Union  and 
Central  Pacific  Railroads  over  plains,  hills,  mountains  and  dash- 
ing streams,  where  nature  plays  its  grandest  part. 

Remember  now,  gentle  reader,  before  starting,  that  "  touch 
and  go' '  is  our  programme,  and  pleasure  and  profit  our  motive 
power.  With  ticket  and  trunk-check  in  our  pocket  we  step 
into  one  of  Pullman's  fine  palace  coaches  at  St.  Louis,  on  a 
Sabbath  evening,  and  soon  we  are  wending  our  way  toward 
Kansas  City,  arriving  Monday  morning,  connecting  with  the 
Missouri  Valley  and  Council  Bluffs  Railroad,  which  deposits 
us  safely  that  night  in  Omaha,  where,  at  the  Grand  Central 
Hotel,  we  feast  and  rest  until  the  morning  sun  warns  us  that 
the  Union  Pacific  train  waits  not  for  laggards.  Our  experience 
in  the  late  unpleasantness  prompts  the  necessity  of  "three  days' 
rations  in  haversack,"  ready  to  march  or  starve  (?)  at  a  mo- 
ment's warning.  At  n  o'clock  in  the  morning,  promptly, 
the  overland  train  moves  out  of  the  depot  and  heads  off  for  the 
West,  and,  as  we  turn  over  the  bluffs  of  Omaha,  bid  good-bye 
and  give  a  last  fond  look  at  the  "  Big  Muddy"  as  it  wends  its 
way  to  the  Gulf.  Onward  we  move  over  the  rich  prairie  lands 
of  Nebraska,  stopping  occasionally  at  way  stations  for  mails  and 
passengers.  Near  Grand  Island,  one  hundred  and  fifty-four 


1 90  A  CHECKERED  LIFE. 

miles  from  Omaha,  where  the  train  stops  for  supper,  we  behold 
a  splendid  prairie  fire,  just  as  the  sun  sinks  behind  the  western 
hills.  No  one  who  has  not  witnessed  it  can  appreciate  the 
.grandeur  and  fearful  sublimity  of  a  general  prairie  fire.  Far 
as  the  eye  can  reach,  long  waves  of  flame,  like  molten  metal, 
crackle  and  skip  at  the  sport  of  the  wild  winds,  filling  the  air 
with  dense  clouds  of  smoke,  rushing  on  like  the  wild  breakers 
of  the  ocean  until  dashed  to  pieces  and  extinguished  against 
some  bare  bluff  or  barren  crag. 

A  good  night's  rest  brings  us  to  Sidney,  Neb.,  for  breakfast, 
and  after  a  splendid  run  over  undulating  plains,  we  reach 
Cheyenne,  Wyoming  Territory,  a  central  distributing  point  for 
Colorado  and  New  Mexico.  Dinner  is  served  up  in  good  style 
here,  and  the  overland  argonauts  continue  their  journey  with 
light  hearts  and  full  stomachs.  About  3  o'clock  in  the  after- 
noon we  arrived  at  Sherman,  named  in  honor  of  our  dashing 
general  who  cracked  the  shell  of  the  rebellion  and  marched 
his  "bummers"  in  triumph  to  the  sea.  This  is  the  highest 
point  on  the  road,  attaining  an  altitude  of  eight  thousand  two 
hundred  and  forty-two  feet  above  the  level  of  the  ocean.  To 
the  south,  one  hundred  and  sixty-five  miles,  is  Pike's  Peak,  and 
to  the  southwest,  seventy-five  miles  is  Long's  Peak,  both  visible. 

From  Sherman  we  dashed  away  over  rough  hills,  narrow 
canons  and  high  bridges  spanning  terrible  gorges,  until  Lara- 
mie  City  is  gained,  where  supper  is  in  waiting.  This  is  the 
town  where  the  first  woman  jury  in  the  United  States  was  im- 
paneled to  try  one  of  the  opposite  sex  for  theft,  murder,  or 
some  other  mild  form  of  crime,  and  to  their  credit  be  it  said 
the  "  Lord  of  Creation"  was  convicted  on  every  count !  Who 
will  say  that  woman  acts  from  sympathy  and  not  from  a  spirit 
of  justice,  after  this  showing  ? 

Rushing  out  of  Laramie,  with  tne  stars  and  stripes  fluttering 
over  Fort  Sanders  in  the  distance,  we  enter  the  Laramie  plains, 
extending  sixty  miles  towards  the  west,  and  twenty  miles  to- 
ward the  foot-hills  of  the  Rocky  Mountains.  This  valley  is 
one  of  the  finest  grazing  sections  in  the  country,  and  a  hundred 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE.  19 1 

thousand  head  of  cattle  can  easily  find  food  and  water  along 
the  tortuous  windings  of  the  Larainie  River.  For  ten  miles  we 
struggle  on  towards  Sheep  Mountain,  twelve  thousand  feet 
above  the  level  of  the  sea.  Here  the  Laramie  River  takes  its 
rise  among  the  gloomy  gorges  of  dense  forest,  overhanging 
rocks,  and  eternal  springs.  Deer,  bear,  mountain  lions  and 
wild  sheep  range  the  rugged  sides  of  the  Black  Hills  and 
mountain  peaks. 

The  traveler  will  notice,  from  Laramie  on,  that  the  sons  of  the 
Celestial  empire  work  the  railroad,  and  cut  up  old  mother  earth 
for  the  benefit  of  the  Yankee  nation.  See  one  John  Chinaman 
and  you  see  them  all.  Dark,  almond  eyes,  round  expression- 
less face,  shaved  head,  blouse,  boxed  shoes,  and  the  eternal 
pig-tail,  make  up  the  sum  and  substance  of  this  patient,  untir- 
ing child  of  Confucius.  While  they  are  not  of  us  or  with  us 
in  make  and  education,  let  us  consider  that  they  are  human, 
and  long  before  our  double-storied  Caucasian  head  learned  its 
letters  the  Chinese  wrote  and  taught  the  eternal  justice  of  doing 
to  others  as  you  would  they  should  do  to  you. 

Night  has  passed,  and  we  draw  up  in  the  early  morning  at 
Green  River  Station,  where  a  good  breakfast  greets  the  wan- 
derer. We  continue  on  the  Green  River,  which  takes  its  rise 
in  the  Wind  River  Mountains  and  empties  into  the  Colorado, 
one  hundred  and  fifty  miles  from  the  station.  On  we  go  to- 
wards Fort  Bridger,  which  was  established  in  1858,  by  General 
A.  S.  Johnston,  who  suffered  so  much  with  his  little  army  in  the 
"  scrimmage"  with  Brigham  Young.  The  fort  was  named  af- 
ter Jim  Bridger,  an  old  hunter  and  trapper  who  lived  in  this 
region  for  thirty  years,  and  who,  I  am  informed,  now  resides 
in  St.  Louis.  The  iron  horse  is  dashing  away  towards  Evans- 
ton,  where  dinner  makes  glad  the  heart  of  the  traveler.  Deer, 
elk  and  antelope  abound  in  this  region,  and  from  the  car  win- 
dow I  behold  a  large  drove  of  the  latter,  more  than  fifty  in 
number,  quietly  ranging  and  grazing  within  gun-shot  of  the 
train.  (Rodman  gun.)  We  now  come  to  the  wilds  of  Echo 
Canon,  where  the  shrill  whistle  of  the  locomotive  finds 


192  A  CHECKERED  LIFE. 

tongue  in  rocky  crags  that  answer  back  the  defiant  shriek. 
We  clatter  and  dash  through  tunnels,  over  break-neck  trestle 
bridges,  until  the  wilds  of  Weber  River  usher  us  into  the  re- 
nowned Weber  Canon,  one  of  the  grandest  sights  on  the  road. 
For  more  than  thirty  miles  the  river  rushes  foaming  and  boil- 
ing between  two  mountain  walls,  which  shut  in  the  landscape 
on  either  side.  Frequently  the  torrent  leaps  over  some  huge 
rock  that  has  fallen  into  the  deep,  dark  chasm  from  the  tower- 
ing cliff.  For  over  six  miles  the  fettered  stream  dashes  down 
through  the  narrows  where  the  road-bed  is  cut  out  of  the  solid 
rock,  and  at  one  point,  where  the  old  emigrant  road  crossed 
the  gorge,  is  so  narrow  that  the  torrent  has  worn  its  bed  into 
the  form  of  a  crooked  S  or  Z  where  you  would  naturally  imag- 
ine that  its  rush  must  cease  or  sink  altogether  into  the  bowels 
of  the  earth  ;  but  a  few  miles  further  on  it  passes  out  into  the 
plains  as  placid  and  clear  as  if  no  struggle  had  taken  place. 
As  we  emerge  from  the"  canon,  the  celebrated  Thousand-mile 
Tree  is  passed,  marking  the  distance  from  Omaha.  This  is  a 
grand  old  pine,  that  has  long  weathered  the  storm,  and  shel- 
tered by  its  wide-spreading  branches  the  red  rover  of  the  plains 
and  the  lonely  emigrant  on  his  toilsome  way  to  the  land  of 
gold.  Here  the  Mormon  settlements  began  to  appear,  and 
the  followers  of  Brigham  utilized  every  foot  of  valley  land,  rear- 
ing thereon  their  household  gods  with  remarkable  thrift 

A.t  dusk  we  reach  Ogden,  the  terminus  of  the  Union  Pacific 
Railroad,  where  we  change  cars  for  the  Central  Pacific,  and 
those  who  desire  can  run  up  thirty-eight  miles  to  Salt  Lake, 
and  pay  homage  to  B.  Young  &  Co.,  which  is  a  strong  firm  in 
this  region.  "All  aboard  for  San  Francisco,"  882  miles  dis- 
tant, prompts  the  tourist  to  take  his  place  in  the  silver  palace 
sleeping  cars.  On  we  go  now  past  Corinne,  through  the  Great 
American  Desert,  sixty  miles  square,  where  the  eye  fails  to  see 
i  green  shrub,  and  only  alkali  wastes  of  gray  sandstone  meet 
the  vision.  There  are  many  evidences  that  this  tract  of  coun- 
try was  once  the  bed  of  an  inland  sea.  In  the  early  morning 
Pilot  Peak,  an  old  emigrant  landmark,  meets  the  view,  and 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE. 


193 


passing  on  to  Toano,  where  we  lay  snow-bound  for  six  hours, 
we  strike  down  upon  the  head  waters  of  the  Humboldt  River 
through  Osino  Canon,  a  wild,  rocky  region,  where  bunches 
of  sage  grass  and  stunted  shrubs  grapple  with  the  mountain 
sides. 

Elko,  Nevada,  is  reached  for  breakfast.  It  is  the  center  of 
a  vast  silver  mining  country,  including  the  White  Pine  region. 
Humboldt  Canon  is  in  sight  a  few  miles  from  Carlin,  and 
standing  on  the  platform,  we  wonder  how  the  train  can  ever 
get  through  the  mountains.  The  Humboldt  River  rolls  at  our 
feet,  tossed  and  churned  in  its  rocky  road.  On  we  glide  to- 
wards Humboldt,  where  good  meals  are  furnished,  then  to  Hot 
Springs,  down  Truckee  River  to  Verdi,  over  the  line  to  Cali- 
fornia. Seven  and  fourteen  miles  from  Truckee  City  are  Don- 
ner  and  Tahoe  Lakes.  I  would  like  to  linger  here,  and  tell 
you  all  about  the  Donner  party  and  the  matchless  suffering 
they  endured  in  the  winter  of  1864,  on  the  borders  of  this  re- 
nowned lake. 

They  were  sixteen  in  number,  bound  from  Illinois  to  the 
land  of  gold.  A  long  and  extremely  heavy  snow-storm  over- 
took them.  Mr.  Donner,  his  wife  and  a  German  proposed  to 
remain  on  the  lake  and  let  his  children  and  the  other  emigrants 
endeavor  to  cross  the  mountains,  expecting,  when  the  storm 
subsided,  to  meet  them  in  the  Sacramento  Valley.  The  main 
party  crossed  the  mountain  safely,  but  poor  Donner  and  his 
wife,  the  bold  pioneers,  died  of  their  sufferings. 

From  Truckee  City  we  journeyed  on  to  the  summit  of  the 
Sierra  Nevada  Mountains,  and  such  another  serpentine  climb 
there  is  not  on  the  continent.  The  road  for  thirty  miles  is 
covered  with  snow-sheds,  through  which  the  train  pushes.  Just 
think  of  a  continuous  tunnel  of  that  length,  with  now  and  then 
a  ray  of  light  blinding  the  eyes,  and  you  have  some  idea  of 
snow-sheds.  At  Summit  Station  we  breakfasted  on  delicious 
trout,  caught  in  the  lakes  and  streams  of  the  surrounding  mount- 
aims  ;  this,  too,  in  an  eating  -  house  covered  by  sheds  and 
twenty-five  feet  o  snow  ! 

13 


!94  A  CHECKERED  LIFE. 

Down  the  mountains  we  dash  at  break-neck  speed,  through 
Emigrant  Gap,  Dutch  Flat  and  Gold  Run,  when,  soon  after, 
Cape  Horn  looms  up  in  sight,  and  the  gold  mines  of  California 
meet  the  view  wherever  we  turn.  Chinese  cabins  and  miners' 
huts  peep  out  from  every  nook  and  gorge.  On  the  iQth  of 
January,  1848,  near  Placerville,  El  Dorado  County,  the  first 
gold  was  discovered  by  one  J.  W.  Marshall,  in  the  mill-race  of 
the  noted  General  Sutter.  From  this  discovery  has  grown  the 
greatness  and  wealth  of  the  Pacific  coast,  which  has  given  our 
country  a  leading  position  among  the  nations.  The  gold-hunt- 
ers from  every  state  in  the  Union  have  been  here  to  try  their 
luck,  and  while  hundreds  have  grown  rich  and  settled  in  the 
beautiful  valleys  of  this  state,  thousands  and  tens  of  thousands 
gave  up  the  ghost  in  their  overland  tramp,  or  died  alone  and 
neglected  in  their  unprofitable  search  among  the  crags  and  foot- 
hills of  the  coast  range  and  Sierras. 

Rounding  Cape  Horn,  a  bold,  sharp  peak,  we  look  perpen- 
dicularly 3,000  feet  below  to  the  golden  stream  that  flows  at 
the  base  of  the  crag,  like  a  variegated  ribbon  in  a  green  field. 
In  the  distance  is  the  thriving  town  of  Colfax,  named  after  our 
ex-Vice-President,  and  far  away  to  the  north-west  is  Mount 
Shasta,  overlooking  the  waters  of  the  Pacific  Ocean.  A  short 
run  brings  us  into  the  Sacramento  valley,  and  right  ahead  can 
be  seen  the  city  of  Sacramento.  The  sudden  change  from  the 
region  of  ice  and  snow  to  the  balmy  breezes  of  the  tropics, 
where  violets  and  buttercups  gladden  the  eye,  and  lilies  grow 
in  the  open  air,  can  be  felt,  but  not  described.  Stopping  but 
ten  minutes  at  Sacramento,  we  move  on  toward  San  Francisco 
and  the  Golden  Gate.  Now  we  dash  down  the  Sacramento 
valley,  with  Oakland  and  San  Francisco  before  us,  and  the 
Sierra  Nevada  behind  us. 

Out  into  the  bay,  over  the  extended  wharf,  the  train  heads 
towards  Goat  Island,  and  the  engine  blows  its  last  whistle  for 
"down  brakes"  at  San  Francisco,  where  the  long  rows  of  gas- 
lights across  the  water  wink  a  kind  invitation  to  the  weary  pil- 
grim, who  slumbers  his  first  night  in  the  city  of  seventy-seven 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE.  195 

hills.  A  large  and  commodious  ferry-boat  lies  in  waiting  to 
carry  us  over  the  bonnie  blue  bay,  and  having  escaped  with  our 
lives  and  our  pocket-books  from  the  infernal  importunities  of 
hotel  runners  and  hackmen,  we  are  snugly  located  at  the  Grand 
Hotel,  six  days'  ride  from  home. 

SOMETHING  ABOUT  THE  EARLY  HISTORY  OF  SAN  FRANCISCO. 
:Special  Correspondence  of  the  St.  Louis  Globe. 

San  Francisco,  Cal.,  April  25th,  1874. 

Twenty-five  years  ago  this  city  was  but  a  straggling  village, 
containing  only  a  few  miners  and  their  huts  and  tents  scattered 
along  the  bay,  among  the  sand  hills.  The  Indian,  Mexican 
and  Spaniard  had  long  ranged  the  coast  mountains  and  the 
waters  of  San  Francisco  Bay,  and  the  Golden  Gate  had  re- 
sounded to  the  music  of  the  mission  bells  of  the  Castillian  race 
nearly  a  hundred  years  before  the  Yankee  nation  poured  out 
its  dashing  warriors  and  gold-hunters  amid  the  Sierra  Nevada 
Mountains.  To-day  San  Francisco  boasts  of  its  two  hundred 
thousand  population,  assembled  from  every  clime  on  earth, 
embracing  the  most  daring  spirits  of  every  race,  and  dashing 
forward  with  that  indomitable  perseverance  and  manly  pluck 
that  has  made  the  Golden  State  the  brightest  gem  in  the  coro- 
net of  Columbia.  Ships  of  every  nation  load  and  unload  their 
rich  freights  here  at  the  back  door  of  the  Union ;  and  while 
New  York  is  the  metropolitan  city  of  the  nation,  and  St.  Louis 
looms  up  as  the  Future  Great  City  of  the  World,  San  Francisco, 
the  representative  of  California,  puts  in  a  claim  for  the  finest 
harbor,  the  richest  mines,  minerals  and  mountains,  the  biggest 
grain-fields — forty  miles  by  twelve — the  grandest  scenery,  the 
fastest  women,  and  the  largest  and  smartest  men  on  top  of  dirt ! 
If  you  don't  believe  what  I  say,  ask  any  one  of  the  "  Forty- 
Niners"  who  cross  your  pathway  on  Montgomery  or  California 
streets.  They  will  tell  more  than  I  can  imagine  of  the  won- 
derful past  and  grand  future  in  store  for  all  good  Californians. 
I  am  inclined  to  encourage  the  pride  of  these  whole-souled 
people ;  for,  seeming  blessed,  "they  grow  to  what  they  seem." 


I96  A  CHECKERED  LIFE. 

Everything  here  is  on  the  broad  gauge.  The  smallest  boot- 
black bores  with  a  big  auger,  and  gimlets  are  never  used  ex- 
cept by  us  wandering,  benighted  Arabs  east  of  the  mountains. 
Go  along  any  of  the  thoroughfares  of  this  rushing  city,  and 
you  will  see  such  portentous  signs  as  "The  Oriental  Boot- 
black," the  "Pacific  Peanut  Peddler,"  the  "Celestial  Wash- 
stand,"  the  "Empire  Laundry,"  and  the  "Occidental  Oyster 
Depot."  When  such  big-sounding  names  are  used  by  the 
small  fry,  you  can  imagine  how  the  bankers,  brokers  and  mer- 
chants inflate  their  business,  although  financial  inflation  here  is 
tabooed  by  every  man  of  sense. 

California  street  is  the  Wall  street  of  this  coast.  There  you 
daily  see  the  maddening  rush  for  gold — young  and  old,  rich 
and  poor,  struggling  for  the  shining  dust.  There  on  the  cor- 
ner stands  a  shrewd  man  who  made  a  million  out  of  "Belcher," 
and  his  friend  across  the  street  lost  a  million  on  the  same  silver 
mine.  Here  is  the  sharper  who  induced  the  rich  banker  to  invest 
in  the  diamond  mine  of  Arizona,  and  there  goes  the  banker 
that  was  taken  in.  There  is  the  man  who  buys  up  all  the  wheat 
on  the  Pacific  coast  and  bulls  the  Liverpool  market,  while  his 
friend  against  the  lamp-post  manufactures  and  sells  all  the  Pio- 
neer wine  and  brandy  of  California.  You  would  not  think 
that  the  little  red-faced,  red-nosed,  gray-haired  man  biting  his 
finger  nails,  on  the  curbstone,  made  a  half  a  million  last  week 
on  "  Crown  Point."  No,  he  lost  all  he  invested,  and  like  a 
shark  waits  for  some  gudgeon  to  get  even  on. 

There  comes  Ralston,  the  president  of  the  Bank  of  Califor- 
nia, a  man  of  extraordinary  pluck  and  off-hand  venture.  He 
is  about  forty  years  old,  I  believe,  has  a  good  address,  a  con- 
stitution like  an  army  mule,  and  an  iron  nerve.  Ralston  is  one 
of  the  pushing  spirits  of  the  Pacific  coast.  His  generosity  is 
unbounded,  and  his  hand  and  heart  are  ever  open  to  the  poor 
and  unfortunate.  Years  ago  he  was  clerk  on  a  Mississippi 
steamboat,  and  many  of  the  business  men  of  your  city  remem- 
ber him  as  a  dashing  young  blood  who  was  always  ready  to 
work,  and  never  absent  from  roll-call. 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE. 


197 


A  trip  to  "Belmont,"  the  home  of  Mr.  Ralston,  situated 
among  the  coast  foot-hills,  is  something  to  be  remembered  by 
tourists  who  are  out  in  the  world  for  pleasure  and  information. 

It  was  no  uncommon  thing  for  Ralston,  with  his  party  of 
friends  and  his  "four  in  hand,"  to  drive  to  Belmont,  twenty- 
five  miles  away,  in  two  hours.  Sometimes,  when  the  train  lag- 
ged for  passengers,  the  financial  king  with  his  team  would 
beat  the  locomotive,  and  enter  the  precincts  of  his  fairy  home 
.as  the  engineer  whistled  ' '  down  brakes. ' '  Two  hundred  guests 
could  be  accommodated  at  his  hospitable  board,  where  fruits, 
flowers,  flowing  wine,  singing  birds  and  instrumental  music 
made  the  heart  and  soul  imagine  that  some  bright  enchantress 
with  her  magic  wand  had  called  into  celestial  life  the  tropical 
romance  of  Belmont. 

Scattered  to-day  in  every  land  and  clime  are  the  guests  of 
Belmont,  and  as  the  mind  of  the  traveler  turns  back  over  the 
checkered  road  he  has  passed,  his  heart  will  often  linger  with 
pride  and  love  upon  the  memory  of  the  royal  hand  that  dis- 
pensed romantic  pleasures  at  that  renowned  home  among  the 
golden  sands  of  California. 

There  are  more  than  twenty  millionaires  in  San  Francisco, 
all  having  arrived  on  the  coast  poor  and  friendless,  and  many 
are  the  strange  tales  you  hear  about  the  great  fortunes  won  and 
lost  at  the  point  of  the  pick,  or  the  turn  of  the  last  trump — not 
Gabriel's. 

The  city  is  progressing  rapidly,  new  buildings  going  up  daily, 
like  new  wine  injected  into  old  bottles.  Speaking  of  wine, 
this  state  will  in  time  furnish  all  the  pure  wine  and  brandy  con- 
sumed in  the  United  States,  always  excepting  ike  Cook  and  his 
"Imperial"  fluid,  which  has  become  so  entangled  with  the 
growth  of  Missouri  that  it  is  part  and  parcel  of  our  natural  ex- 
istence. 

San  Francisco  by  gas-light  "  takes  the  rag  off  the  bush."  In 
company  with  the  chief  of  police,  T.  G.  Cockrill,  this  wander- 
ing Arab  viewed  the  elephant  and  saw  where  the  giraffe  came 
in.  Cockrill  was  formerly  from  Missouri,  and  claims  relation- 


198  A  CHECKERED  LIFE. 

ship  with  Colonel  Crisp,  who,  with  the  assistance  of  Hutchins, 
the  good,  preserves  the  virtue  of  the  Evening  Dispatch,  and 
purifies  the  political  atmosphere  of  St.  Louis.  But  Cockrill  is 
not  responsible  for  his  relations,  and  I  can  afford  to  accompany 
him  through  the  dark  haunts  of  this  city.  Down  Montgomery 
to  California,  up  Kearney  and  Dupont  to  Jackson  street,  and 
into  the  Chinese  theater  we  go,  where  the  painted  Celestial, 
with  his  Dolly  Varden  stage  costume,  squeals  out  an  unearthly 
noise  in  his  operatic  contortions,  and  causes  the  stranger  to 
wonder  whether  he  is  in  a  lunatic  asylum,  being  entertained  by 
the  maudlin  mimicry  of  maniacs.  After  looking  about  for  a 
few  moments  upon  the  numerous  pig-tails  hanging  to  dilapi- 
dated pumpkin-heads  gazing  with  a  look  of  inanity  upon  the 
stage  stock,  we  withdrew  to  a  dark  alley  near  by,  and  being 
reinforced  by  Officer  Schimp,  proceeded  to  inspect  the  lower 
depths  of  Chinese  infamy.  Down  two  flights  of  stairs,  through 
the  sinuosities  of  inferno  equaling  that  of  Dante,  we  were  ush- 
ered into  a  small  room,  with  six  bunks  against  the  walls,  where 
"  John"  was  inhaling  the  aromatic  perfumery  of  opium  with  a 
zest  that  made  my  Christian  stomach  weaken  and  long  for  the 
pure  air  of  the  upper  world.  In  this  den  were  reclining  six 
Celestials,  puffing  and  blowing  away  their  poor  existence.  I 
asked  the  policeman  regarding  the  occupation  of  these  beauti- 
ful dreamers,  and  with  a  knowing  twinkle  in  his  eye,  he  replied 
that  they  were  very  careful,  industrious  men,  who  could  not 
see  anything  go  to  waste,  and  in  the  lonely  hours  of  midnight 
sallied  out  to  take  care  of  such  property  as  their  neighbors  had 
left  unlocked.  We  immediately  saw  that  the  "  dark  ways"  of 
the  Heathen  Chinee  bore  a  strong  resemblance  to  the  illustri- 
ous customs  of  the  Caucasian,  and,  having  but  a  small  purse,  we 
"  passed  out"  into  the  street.  We  had  often  heard  of  the  al- 
mond-eyed daughters  of  Confucius,  and  could  not  resist  the  im- 
portunities of  the  "  Chief"  to  gaze  upon  the  beauties  of  a 
harem  that  would  have  made  Mrs.  Lalla  Rookh,  Hinda  and  old 
Mr.  Moore  look  sick.  The  new  woman's  movement  being 
now  all  the  rage,  we  lingered  a  moment  in  search  of  informa- 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE.  !99 

tion,  that  we  might  contrast  the  beauties  of  the  far  East  with 
the  bouncing  belles  of  the  West.  The  "  Chief  aided  us  in 
examining  the  peculiarities  of  the  Celestial  sisters,  but  I  must 
confess,  with  a  feeling  of  sadness,  that  what  I  saw  did  not  come 
up  to  my  expectations,  and  I  retired  from  the  scene  in  favor  of 
anything  that  will  make  women  better  and  men  truer  and  more 
generous  to  the  weaker  sex.  We  traveled  along  to  "  Barbary 
Coast,"  where  the  "  hoodlums,"  or  rowdies,  make  night  hide- 
ous with  their  drunken  brawls.  Into  the  cellar  dance-house 
we  peeped,  and  saw  men  and  women  swearing,  talking,  danc- 
ing, drinking,  and  fighting  their  way  through  those  desperate 
dens.  Scarcely  a  night  passes  but  some  poor  drunken  sot  is 
robbed  or  murdered  in  these  vile  haunts,  which  are  in  collu- 
sion with  the  twenty-five  cent  lodging  houses  that  skirt  the  dark 
alleys  of  murder  row. 

While  I  thus  show  the  dark  side  of  San  Francisco,  there  are, 
thank  God,  pure  and  happy  homes  looming  up  all  round,  where 
virtue  and  intelligence  reign  supreme,  and  the  hearthstone 
blazes  with  a  hospitable  light  for  the  worthy  stranger. 

Chief  Cockrill  pointed  out  tome  some  of  the  finest  mansions 
on  the  coast,  surrounded  with  evergreens  and  sitting  upon  ter- 
raced hills  overlooking  the  shining  waters  of  the  bay.  Well 
it  is  for  the  people  of  the  city  that  they  are  blessed  with  a  chief 
of  police  who  is  in  every  respect  a  natural  gentleman,  and  who 
guards  their  slumbers  in  the  silent  watches  of  the  night  by  a 
force  that  is  not  excelled  in  the  United  States  for  efficiency  and 
intelligence. 

Having  just  returned  from  Los  Angeles,  the  orange  grove  of 
Southern  California,  I  will  digress  from  the  main  track  and 
give  you  a  brief  resume'  of  my  trip.  Ten  days  ago  I  was  in- 
vited to  accompany  an  examining  railroad  commission  upon  a 
tour  of  inspection,  and  as  my  business  called  me  in  that  direc- 
tion I  availed  myself  of  the  hospitable  offer.  Taking  the  cars 
at  Oakland,  across  the  Bay,  we  proceeded  to  Delano,  in  the 
San  Joaquin  Valley,  and  from  thence  by  stage  to  the  mission 
of  San  Francisco,  where  the  cars  were  waiting  to  hurry  us 


200  A  CHECKERED  LIFE. 

through  to  Los  Angeles,  distant  from  here  about  four  hundred 
and  fifty  miles.  My  companions  were  L.  M.  Foulk,  Super- 
visor of  Internal  Revenue  :  Eugene  Sullivan  and  Calvin  Brown, 
composing  the  railroad  commission,  and  Colonel  Gray,  Red- 
ning,  Madden  and  Brown,  of  the  South  Pacific  Company.  The 
party  were  ever  on  the  qui  vive  for  fun,  and  the  stage  ride  over 
the  Sierra  Nevada  Mountains  was  enjoyed  by  your  correspond- 
ent with  a  zest  that  will  not  soon  be  forgotten.  After  our  ar- 
rival in  Los  Angeles,  a  trip  to  the  San  Gabriel  Mission  was 
planned  and  executed  with  alacrity,  where  the  party  had  an  op- 
portunity to  view  the  beauties  of  the  orange  groves,  the  prev- 
alence of  the  grape  vine,  and  the  grandeur  of  the  distant  mount- 
ains reflected  in  the  deep  blue  sea.  It  was  noon  when  we 
neared  the  orange  groves,  dashing  away  over  rolling  hills,  seven 
of  us  behind  six  spanking  bays.  All  was  seemingly  serene, 
when  we  heard  that  the  noted  highway  robber,  Vasquez,  had 
just  robbed  an  old  ranchero,  and  was  on  our  track.  We  at  first 
laughed  at  the  report,  but  it  was  soon  confirmed  by  two  men 
who  were  just  ahead  of  us,  and  were  relieved  of  their  money 
and  watches  by  the  bold  bandits.  Each  man  of  our  party  grew 
to  the  size  of  a  first-class  Alexander  when  it  was  known  that 
the  robbers  missed  us  ten  minutes,  and  a  cooling  draught  of 
wine  at  the  vineyard  of  Messrs.  Wilson  &  Shorb  appeased  the 
wrath  of  the  railroad  warriors.  There  is  a  reward  of  twenty 
thousand  dollars  upon  the  head  of  Vasquez,  but  up  to  the  pres- 
ent time  he  has  defied  the  whole  state  of  California,  and  from 
his  mountain  wilds  dictates  terms  to  the  people  like  the  Italian 
bandits  calling  for  ransom  in  compensation  for  blood.  He  is 
an  educated  Spaniard,  and  has  the  sympathy  of  his  race  to  aid 
him  in  his  daring  exploits. 

We  first  visited  the  orange  and  grape  ranch  of  Gen.  George 
Stoneman,  the  bold  Union  raider  of  the  late  war.  On  his 
place  can  be  seen  the  orange  in  all  its  golden  beauty.  Upon 
the  same  tree  I  saw  the  bud,  blossom,  green  and  ripe  orange, 
which  to  me  was  phenomenal.  The  trees  bear  nine  years  from 
the  seed,  and  two  thousand  oranges  to  a  tree  is  frequently  gath- 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE.  20 1 

•ered,  and  sold  at  from  two  to  five  dollars  a  hundred.  The 
orchards  of  Wilson,  Cuen  and  Rose  are  the  finest  in  the  val- 
ley— thousands  of  tropical  fruit  trees  and  millions  of  grape  vines 
in  bloom,  and  bearing  the  whole  year  round.  Here  I  actually 
saw  growing  oranges,  lemons,  limes,  figs,  English  walnuts,  al- 
monds, pomegranates,  plums,  cherries,  peaches,  olives,  pears, 
quinces,  apricots,  citrons,  apples,  medlar  and  nectarines.  The 
soil  is  of  a  dark,  dry,  gravelly  formation,  and  for  three  months 
in  the  year,  during  the  dry  season,  irrigation  is  absolutely  nec- 
essary to  prevent  trees  from  dying.  Land  is  no  object  in  this 
beautiful  valley,  although  held  in  large  bodies ;  but  water  is 
the  main  thing  for  farming  purposes.  The  water  is  sold  and 
distributed  carefully,  and  the  land  is  thrown  in  for  a  hundred 
dollars  an  acre.  Modest  people,  aren't  they?  Standing  upon 
General  Stoneman's  place,  looking  south-east,  the  traveler  be- 
holds the  peaks  of  Mount  San  Bernardino  covered  with  snow, 
the  ocean  to  the  south-west,  and  the  golden  fruit  of  the  tropics 
blushing  at  you  from  beneath  their  dark-browed  branches. 
Oh  !  if  I  were  a  poet,  wouldn't  I  stay  here  and  go  it ! 

The  church  or  mission  of  San  Gabriel  is  one  of  the  oldest 
Spanish  buildings  on  this  coast,  having  just  celebrated  its  one 
hundred  and  third  anniversary.  I  went  all  through  the  old 
ruin,  now  going  fast  to  decay,  but  still  a  resort  for  the  faithful 
few  that  daily  assemble  at  the  sound  of  the  old  bells  in  the 
tower. 

How  the  memory  of  other  days  crowds  upon  the  traveler 
as  he  views  crumbling  piles  of  masonry  erected  by  the  hands 
of  those  faithful  natives  that  made  the  Jesuit  fathers  rich  and 
arrogant,  until  their  wealth  excited  the  envy  and  rapacity  of 
the  Mexican  Government,  which  sequestrated  the  great  land- 
grants  and  property  of  these  religious  families.  A  few  more 
years  and  the  missions  of  California  will  be  chronicled  in  the 
musty  archives  of  the  past ;  the  bells  that  now  peal  forth  an 
hourly  invitation  to  prayer  will  sound  the  funeral  march  of  the 
natives,  and  the  wild  waves  of  the  Pacific  will  chant  an  eternal 
requiem  over  their  lonely  graves  on  the  mountain  side. 


202  A  CHECKERED  LIFE. 

The  city  of  Los  Angeles  is  beautifully  situated  in  a  grove  of 
orange  trees,  twenty  miles  from  the  ocean  by  rail.  The  grape 
grows  in  the  wildest  profusion  all  around  the  city,  and  thous- 
ands of  gallons  of  the  purest  wine  are  made  annually.  Kohler 
&  Frolina  have  one  of  the  largest  cellars  in  this  regioh,  and, 
combined  with  their  vineyard  in  Sonora  county,  do  the  largest 
business  on  the  coast.  Mr.  Kohler  is  the  pioneer  wine  man  on 
the  Pacific.  He  is  progressive  and  intelligent,  possessing  those 
noble  characteristics  that  make  the  Teutonic  race  respected  in 
this  land,  where  energy  and  thrift  find  recognition.  Mr.  Kel- 
ley,  his  Hibernian  neighbor,  has  a  very  fine  orange  and  lemon 
orchard,  thousands  of  grape  vines,  and  cellars  well  stocked  with 
the  choicest  wines  and  brandies. 

From  Los  Angeles  I  proceeded  by  stage  to  Santa  Barbara, 
on  the  Pacific  coast,  with  the  Santa  Cruz  Islands  in  sight,  thirty 
miles  distant.  This  is  one  of  the  most  thriving  towns  in  South- 
ern California,  and  is  fast  settling  up  with  an  Eastern  popula- 
tion, in  search  of  health  and  fortune.  I  visited  the  Old  Mis- 
sion, and  the  celebrated  grape  vine,  fifty-five  years  old,  eighteen 
inches  in  diameter,  the  trunk  five  feet  high  and  the  branches 
trained  over  an  arbor  fifty  by  sixty  feet,  where  the  town  folks 
assemble  during  the  summer  months,  and  floating  away  in 
tropical  joy,  to  the  music  of  the  Spanish  fandango,  perform 
the  intricate  steps  of  the  "grape-vine  twist !  " 

From  Santa  Barbara  I  took  an  ocean  steamer,  the  Constant- 
ine,  to  San  Francisco.  On  the  way  I  saw  four  whales — the 
genuine  article — blowing,  spouting  and  riding  the  wild  waves 
of  Monterey  Bay.  InJ:he  distance  they  looked  like  floating 
islands  heaved  up  by  volcanic  action.  I  was  forcibly  struck 
with  nature  and  its  destructive  elements.  The  wild  sea-gull 
went  for  the  little  fish ;  the  seal  went  for  the  gulls  as  they 
floated  in  fancied  security  on  the  waves;  the  shark  went  for 
the  seal  and  the  salmon  ;  the  whale  went  for  the  shark  and  the 
seal,  and  the  Yankee  went  for  the  whale,  (and  got  him,  too,) 
and  that's  what  became  of  the  whale  because  of  his  natural 
inclination  to  spout.  Let  all  politicians  take  warning  from  the 
fate  of  the  whale  ! 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE.  205 

Last  evening,  just  as  the  sun  sank  behind  the  western  waves, 
our  staunch  steamer  pushed  through  the  Golden  Gate,  dashing 
a  heavy  sea  from  its  prow  as  it  passed  the  rocks  that  guard 
the  entrance  to  San  Francisco.  On  the  right  sits  the  cele- 
brated Cliff  House  with  the  seal-rocks  covered  by  a  moving 
mass  of  seals.  One  of  the  largest  and  ugliest  is  named  in 
honor  of  Ben  Butler,  and  the  natives  say  that  he  is  eternally 
barking  for  something.  The  biggest  seal  is  named  General 
Grant.  He  sits  on  the  topmost  crag,  surveying  those  below^ 
him  with  a  conscious  dignity ;  but  occasionally,  when  he  is 
riled  by  the  barking  of  Benjamin  and  the  others,  he  drives- 
them  off  the  rocks.  On  the  left  of  the  Gate  is  the  light-house,- 
and  ahead  is  Fort  Alcatraz  and  Goat  Island  in  the  distance,, 
with  the  City  of  the  Hills  margined  by  a  forest  of  masts. 

A  TOUR  IN  OREGON  AND  WASHINGTON  TERRITORY. 
Special  Correspondence  of  the  Globe-Democrat. 

San  Francisco,  Cal.,  May  2pth,  1874. 

In  my  last  letter  I  gave  you  an  idea  of  Southern  California 
and  its  resources,  and  struck  at  some  of  the  peculiarities  of 
this  city.  Since  that  time  I  have  visited  Oregon  and  Wash- 
ington Territory,  where  the  great  Yankee  nation  whittles  out 
timber  for  a  living. 

Taking  the  steamer  Ajax  on  the  5th  of  the  present  month,, 
your  correspondent,  in  company  with  a  jolly  crew  and  cabin 
companions,  pushed  out  through  the  Golden  Gate,  beyond  the 
light-house,  and  steered  away  up  the  North  Pacific  to  Portland, 
Oregon,  where  the  inhabitants  enjoy  their  annual  shower,  and 
with  the  assistance  of  their  web  feet  and  patent  life-preservers, 
manage  to  keep  their  heads  out  of  the  gentle  inundation  which 
visits  that  state  only  once  a  year. 

As  the  evening  sun  of  the  fourth  day  out  bathed  its  last 
blushes  in  the  briny  bosom  of  the  Pacific,  we  came  in  sight  of 
the  land -jaws  that  lock  up  the  mouth  of  the  Columbia  River, 
with  a  rough,  chopping  sea  beating  over  the  sand-bar  at  the 
front  door  of  Oregon.    It  was  so  rough  that  we  had  to  anchor 


204 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE. 


outside  the  bar  until  five  o'clock  in  the  morning,  when  the 
high  tide  swept  us  over  the  breakers  and  into  the  placid  bosom 
of  the  Columbia.  Astoria  soon  came  in  view,  and  the  pine- 
clad  mountains  rose  up  abruptly  on  either  side,  hemming  in 
John  Jacob  Astor's  town  with  a  weird-like  stillness  that  would 
have  suited  the  taste  of  Rip  Van  Winkle. 

Years  ago  the  great  Germanic-American  fur  monarch  estab- 
lished this  as  a  trading-post  with  Indians  and  trappers.  Then 
every  little  stream  that  emptied  into  the  Columbia  was  alive 
with  fur-bearing  animals,  and  every  gorge  in  the  mountain  was 
tracked  with  the  wild  beasts  of  the  forest.  The  red  rover  of 
the  hills  and  the  pioneer  Caucasian  basked  in  the  sunshine  of 
prosperity  while  hunting  in  the  mountains,  or  fishing  for  sal- 
mon in  the  Columbia.  The  fur-bearing  animals  of  this  region 
have  almost  entirely  disappeared,  and  the  great  havoc  by  vo- 
racious fishermen  will  soon  destroy  the  grandest  salmon  fish- 
eries on  the  continent.  A  law  should  be  enacted  to  protect 
the  fish  of  this  stream  from  the  wholesale  slaughter  that  now 
goes  on,  in  and  out  of  season. 

Our  good  steamer  moved  gracefully  up  the  river,  passing 
beautiful  islands  overshadowed  by  rocky  crags  that  have  stood 
the  pelting  storms  of  ages.  All  along  the  fishermen  were  en- 
gaged in  spreading  and  hauling  their  nets,  and  each  boat  we 
passed  was  filled  with  the  shining  beauties  of  the  Columbia. 
In  the  past  two  or  three  yea»rs  some  thirteen  canning  estab- 
lishments have  been  erected  along  the  banks,  from  the  mouth 
of  the  stream  to  the  Willamette  River. 

The  running  season  of  the  salmon  commences  in  May  and 
ends  in  July.  They  are  taken  from  one  to  ten  thousand  daily. 
By  the  labor  of  Chinamen  they  are  cut  up  into  pieces,  canned 
in  tin  boxes,  steamed,  soldered,  labeled,  packed,  and  shipped 
direct  to  the  London  market  by  vessels,  some  of  which  were 
loading  as  we  passed.  A  hundred  men  or  more  are  employed 
Sit  each  house,  and  the  modus  operandi  of  preserving  the  salmon 
fresh  for  the  markets  of  the  world  is  a  sight  to  the  traveler. 
You  may  know  that  the  business  is  profitable,  when  I  tell  you 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE.  205 

that  last  season  one  firm  made  a  profit  of  $60,000.  The  fish- 
ermen sell  the  salmon  for  twenty-five  cents  each,  large  and 
small,  and  considering  that  they  weigh  from  twenty  to  seventy- 
five  pounds,  you  can  imagine  the  great  profit  to  the  capitalist. 

About  five  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  we  entered  the  Willa- 
mette River,  and  within  an  hour  afterward  we  beheld  Portland, 
the  metropolitan  city  of  Oregon,  situated  on  the  first  river- 
bench  of  level  land  from  the  mouth  of  the  Columbia.  In  the 
background  the  hills  rise  abruptly,  and  great  pine  forests  sigh 
to  the  music  of  the  wild  winds,  sunshine  and  shadow  forever 
flecking  the  scene  below.  Twenty  years  ago  Portland  was  but 
a  name,  and  the  beautiful  waters  of  the  Willamette  were  only 
ruffled  by  the  paddle  of  the  Indian  with  his  canoe,  the  splash 
of  the  salmon,  or  the  dash  of  the  wild  duck.  Now,  ships  of 
every  nation  load  at  its  harbor  with  grain  and  lumber.  The 
whistle  of  the  iron  horse  and  the  hoarse  shriek  of  steamboats 
awaken  the  slumbering  echoes  of  the  mountain,  and  fifteen 
thousand  inhabitants,  including  Ben.  Holliday,  bask  in  the  wild 
glare  of  nature,  wondering  whether  God  ever  made  a  finer 
country  than  that  skirted  by  the  Columbia  and  Willamette. 

Spending  but  a  few  days  in  Portland,  your  correspondent 
invaded  the  soil  of  Washington  Territory  by  way  of  the  North 
Pacific  Railroad,  to  Kalama,  Tacoma  and  Olympia,  the  capital 
of  the  territory.  This  city  is  situated  at  the  head  of  Puget 
Sound,  and  has  about  five  thousand  inhabitants,  mostly  en- 
gaged in  lumbering  and  political  expectations.  Every  other 
man  here  thinks  he  would  make  a  first-class  governor,  and  the 
balance  think  themselves  fitted  for  Congress — or  a  saw-mill. 
I  might  say,  without  exaggeration,  that  all  the  people  of  the 
Pacific  coast  feel  that  they  were  made  to  govern  the  country, 
and  no  good  Californian,  at  least,  can  be  found  who  would 
not,  at  a  moment's  notice,  assume  the  helm  of  State  and  un- 
dertake to  pilot  the  ship  through  the  roughest  breakers. 

Taking  a  steamer  at  Olympia  one  charming  morning,  this 
Arabian  knight  paddled  down  Puget  Sound,  the  most  magnifi- 
cent sheet  of  water  in  America.  On  we  went  over  the  spark- 


206  A  CHECKERED  LIFE. 

ling  waters,  passing  green  islands,  dashing  through  narrow 
necks  into  broad  bays,  and  turning  points — the  Coast  Range 
of  mountains  covered  with  snow  on  the  left,  and  the  Cascade 
Range  on  the  right — and  all  at  once  we  touched  the  town  of 
Tacoma.  Mount  Rainier,  the  highest  mountain  on  the  con- 
tinent, lifted  its  glorious  form  to  view,  and  there,  in  grand 
proportions,  sixty  miles  away,  the  old  snow-clad  monarch  lifted 
his  bold  head  into  and  beyond  the  highest  clouds,  piercing 
the  very  dome  of  heaven  with  his  awful  form 

The  evening  was  bright  and  clear,  and,  standing  in  the  pilot- 
house, with  marine  glass  in  hand,  I  brought  all  the  beauties 
of  the  mountain  close  to  view,  showing  the  deep  gorges,  rocky 
ribs  and  glaciers  running  to  the  very  crest,  where  a  dark  bare 
i>pot  shows  volcanic  heat  and  action. 

In  August,  1870,  P.  T.  Van  Trump  and  Hazard  Stevens — 
two  young  men  from  Olympia — scaled  the  rugged  heights  of 
this  mountain,  being  the  only  two  human  beings  that  have 
ever  been  known  to  go  to  the  top.  The  trip  took  three  days, 
the  boys  being  compelled  to  camp  on  the  crest  of  the  volcano 
over  night.  They  came  near  losing  their  lives,  for  while  one 
-side  was  almost  burning  up  with  heat,  the  other  was  freezing 
with  cold.  What  is  it  that  young  Yankees  won't  dare  and  do  ? 

Our  steamer  touched  at  Seattle,  a  thriving  town,  and  on  to 
Port  Gambel,  the  great  saw-mill  point,  where  half  a  million 
feet  of  lumber  is  turned  out  daily  by  one  mill  company.  The 
timber  in  Washington  Territory,  along  the  streams  and  bays, 
grows  down  to  the  water's  edge ;  and  the  shrewd  lumbermen 
of  Maine,  seeing  this  rich  field  twenty  years  ago,  took  advan- 
tage of  it,  and  now  supply  this  coast  and  South  America  with 
ail  the  lumber  required. 

Continuing  down  through  Admiralty  Inlet,  past  Port  Towns- 
•end,  the  last  revenue  port  of  entry  on  Uncle  Sam's  farm,  we 
headed  across  towards  Victoria,  on  Vancouver's  Island,  leav- 
ing the  island  of  San  Juan  immediately  to  our  right.  These 
islands,  as  it  will  be  remembered,  came  into  our  full  posses- 
sion by  the  decision  of  King  William  of  Germany,  who  was 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE.  207 

the  arbitrator  upon  the  boundary  line  of  1846.  Victoria  is  a 
conservative  spot,  established  years  ago  as  a  post  for  the  Hud- 
son Bay  Company.  During  the  Frazer  River  gold  excitement 
in  1858,  the  Yankee  boys  made  the  place  lively,  buckwheat 
cakes  and  molasses  ruling  the  roost,  but  the  denizens  of  the 
town  have  again  settled  down  to  quiet  habits. 

Returning  to  Portland  by  rail  and  river,  I  could  not  sup- 
press my  inclination  to  visit  the  cascades  and  dalles  of  the  Co- 
lumbia River.  Taking  the  steamer  Daisy  Ainsworth,  we  pushed 
out  from  the  wharf  at  5  o'clock  in  the  morning,  down  the 
Willamette,  twelve  miles  distant,  and  headed  up  the  Columbia, 
touching  at  Fort  Vancouver,  W.  T.,  where  Generals  Grant  and 
Sheridan  passed  their  early  military  life.  Many  are  the  strange 
stories  told  about  our  President  and  Sheridan,  by  the  oldest 
inhabitants.  But  while  many  are  ridiculous,  the  people  who 
tell  them  pride  in  the  fame  and  prosperity  of  our  Union  war- 
riors, pointing  out  the  resorts  that  were  once  the  glory  of  the 
young  lieutenants.  The  view  from  Vancouver  is  remarkably 
grand ;  to  the  northwest  is  Mount  St.  Helen  and  Mount  Ad- 
ams, and  to  the  northeast  Mount  Hood  looms  up  one  of  the 
finest  and  sharpest  peaks  on  the  coast.  Right  ahead,  as  we 
steam  up  the  river,  bold  mountain  bluffs  5,000  feet  high  rise 
almost  perpendicularly  from  the  troubled  waters  as  they  fret 
and  foam  through  the  rocky  canon  to  find  outlet  to  the  ocean. 
Down  these  mountain -cracked  gorges  dash  a  hundred  water- 
falls at  different  points,  spending  their  headlong  fury  in  the 
rushing  waters  below,  while  the  sun  and  the  wind  weave  a  pict- 
ure in  the  spray  more  beautiful  than  the  fantastic  colorings  of 
fairy  land.  Arriving  at  the  cascades,  a  railroad  portage  of 
about  six  miles  takes  us  to  the  head  of  the  rapids,  where  another 
steamboat  is  in  waiting  to  take  us  to  the  Dalles,  six  miles  up 
the  stream.  The  whole  route  up  the  river  is  one  ever-chang- 
ing picture  of  rocky  islands,  pointed  peaks,  columnar  walls 
and  bouncing  billows,  fretted  into  snowy  spray  by  the  rocks  that 
lie  in  the  channel.  For  two  miles  before  reaching  the  town  of 
the  Dalles,  the  river  is  confined  in  a  narrow  rocky  bed,  cut  out 


2o8  A  CHECKERED  LIFE. 

by  the  hand  of  nature  with  as  much  architectural  skill  as  if  man 
had  labored  for  centuries  to  erect  the  wall.  A  night  at  the 
Dalles  satisfied  our  curiosity.  Here  begins  fifteen  miles  of 
rapids,  where  the  river  rushes  over  a  broken  bed  of  rocks  flung 
from  the  surrounding  mountains,  or  heaved  up  by  some  vol- 
canic action.  I  was  tempted  to  go  to  Walla  Walla,  two  hun- 
dred miles  farther  north,  but  as  I  saw  all  that  was  beautiful  and 
grand  below,  nature  could  only  repeat  herself  farther  up  the 
stream,  so  I  returned  to  Portland  by  the  same  route — seeing  on 
my  way  back  the  Indians  catching  salmon  off  the  rocks  at  the 
cascades  as  they  endeavored  to  jump  the  rapids  that  intercepted 
their  progress.  Salmon  have  been  seen  to  jump  ten  feet  over 
rocky  falls.  The  Indian  lays  in  wait  with  his  dip  net  and 
spear ;  when  the  fish  jumps,  the  red  man  strikes,  and,  missing 
his  aim,  dips  his  net,  when  sooner  or  later  the  salmon  is  caught 
and  bagged  for  market 

From  Portland  I  took  the  cars  for  California  as  far  as  Rose- 
burg,  Oregon,  and  then  jolted  over  a  gap  of  three  hundred 
miles  by  stage  to  Redding,  on  to  Sacramento  and  San  Francisco. 
I  was  forcibly  impressed  on  my  overland  trip  with  the  Willa- 
mette Valley  and  the  beautiful  country  that  surrounds  Salem, 
the  capital  of  the  state.  It  is  the  finest  site  for  a  city  on  the 
coast,  and  when  the  new  state  house  is  finished  and  the  woolen 
factories  are  all  under  way,  and  the  contemplated  railroads 
built,  Salem  will  be  one  of  the  most  desirable  places  I  have  seen. 

The  Willamette  Valley  is  two  hundred  miles  long  by  fifty 
wide,  embracing  the  best  wheat  lands  in  Oregon  Land  sells 
for  from  five  to  fifty  dollars  an  acre,  and  so  far  as  water  is  con- 
cerned, there  is  an  unfailing  fountain  from  above  and  below. 
Oakland,  near  the  terminus  of  the  railroad,  is  a  beautiful  place,, 
snuggled  into  the  top  of  the  mountain.  We  took  supper  there, 
and  you  may  not  believe  me  when  I  say  that  strawberries  and 
cream  were  furnished  at  this  railroad  eating  station,  and  every 
other  luxury  that  the  hills  and  streams  could  afford.  Did  you 
ever  sit  up  three  nights  and  days  on  the  top  of  a  stage  ?  Try 
it  once,  just  to  encourage  the  stage  company,  and  experience 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE. 


209 


the  wild  dash  of  six-in-hand,  as  they  wheel  around  some  mount- 
ain crag,  with  the  head  waters  of  some  great  river  rushing 
three  thousand  feet  below  !  In  the  distance,  you  may  discern 
the  road  before  you,  winding  its  zigzag  way  in  the  vicinity  of 
Mount  Shasta,  like  a  black  serpent  crawling  up  the  rugged  gold 
gorges,  near  Yreka.  On,  ever  on,  goes  the  wild  stage-driver 
and  his  blooded  beasts,  caring  not  for  the  rush  of  the  storm, 
the  scream  of  the  eagle,  or  the  genii  of  the  mountains.  Time 
and  success  has  made  him  fearless,  travel  has  made  him  rough, 
but  kind,  and  nature  has  stamped  upon  his  weather-beaten 
brow  the  nobility  of  manhood  ;  and  when  he  jumps  upon  the 
box  for  the  last  drive,  thinking  alone  of  his  passengers  and 
team,  he  wails  out  from  the  depths  of  his  breaking  heart,  "  On 
the  down  grade,  and  can't  reach  the  brakes  !"  But  although 
this  pioneer  of  travel  cannot  reach  the  brakes  on  this  stage  of 
action,  his  foot  rests  firmly  on  the  threshold  of  eternal  life,  and 
on  the  golden  grade  of  Paradise  he  can  drive  the  chariot  of 
Apollo  with  angels  for  passengers  and  Jehovah  for  superintend- 
ent! 

THE   YOSEMITE   VALLEY. 
Special  Correspondence  of  the  St.  Louis  Globe- Democrat. 

Yosemite  Valley,  California,  June  10,  1874. 
In  company  with  Ike  Cook,  wife  and  daughter,  of  St.  Louis, 
I  started  from  San  Francisco  and  proceeded  to  Merced,  in  the 
San  Joaquin  Valley,  and  from  thence  took  stage  to  Clark's  and 
the  Big  Trees.  At  Merced,  our  company  was  increased  by  a 
bridal  party,  composed  of  Mr.  Briggs  and  wife,  of  Clyde,  N. 
Y. ,  and  Mr.  Baker  and  wife,  of  Columbus,  Ohio.  Starting  at 
6  o'clock  in  the  morning,  we  arrived  at  Clark's  for  supper, 
seventy  miles  away  over  hills,  streams,  and  the  rugged  roads  of 
the  Sierra  Nevada  Mountains.  During  the  day  we  passed 
through  the  celebrated  Mariposa  gold  mine  region  made  famous 
by  Fremont  and  his  financiering.  The  mine  is  now  un work- 
ed, and  the  region  that  once  yielded  millions  to  the  placer  dig- 
gers is  almost  deserted,  save  here  and  there  a  Mexican  or  Chi- 
naman ekeing  out  a  scanty  share  of  the  precious  dust,  by  the 

14 


210  A  CHECKERED  LIFE. 

panning  and  rocking  process  of  the  "  forty-niners. ' '  There  is  as 
much  gold,  no  doubt,  in  the  ribs  and  gorges  of  this  mountain 
region  as  ever,  but  some  company  owns  the  claim,  and  will  not 
work  it,  leaving  the  future  development  of  the  quartz  to  time 
and  interest. 

The  morning  after  our  arrival  at  Clark's  we  prepared  to  visit 
the  celebrated  big  trees.  The  stage  company  furnished  us  with 
animals,  and  Thomas  H.  Tremmed,  one  of  the  oldest  and  most 
reliable  guides  in  the  mguntains,  was  detailed  to  show  the 
party  to  the  spot  where  grow  the  largest  trees  on  earth.  The 
sun  had  just  risen  over  the  distant  mountain  when  the  horses, 
saddled  and  packed  for  the  day,  were  brought  up,  and  soon  we 
mounted  and  dashed  after  the  guide  with  the  wild  freedom  of 
Comanche  Indians.  I  rode  a  menagerie  mule,  striped  like  a 
zebra,  that  trotted  before,  paced  in  the  middle,  and  galloped 
and  kicked  behind.  The  trail  wound  up  through  the  foot-hills 
of  the  mountains,  and  gradually  ascended  for  several  miles. 
On  the  route,  and  near  the  mountain  top,  we  were  struck  with 
the  beauty  and  singular  situation  of  the  blood-red  snow  flowers 
peeping  out  from  the  margin  of  the  snow  belt  that  capped  the 
pointed  peaks.  The  Fallen  Monarch  was  the  first  big  tree  we 
saw,  twenty  feet  in  diameter  and  three  hundred  feet  long.  Its 
body  is  large  enough  to  drive  a  St.  Louis  omnibus  upon.  The 
sides  of  the  old  monarch  are  scarred  all  over  with  the  names 
of  the  great  from  every  land  and  clime. 

The  Grizzly  Giant,  the  largest  tree  in  the  world,  was  the 
next  wonderful  object  we  beheld.  With  the  assistance  of  the 
ladies,  I  measured  the  circumference  of  the  tree,  and  found  it 
to  be  a  hundred  and  eight  feet — thirty-six  feet  in  diameter.  A 
hundred  feet  from  the  base  it  has  a  limb  six  feet  in  diameter, 
fit  for  the  largest  saw-log.  We  continued  through  the  grove 
until  we  came  to  the  Hollow  Tree,  two  of  us  riding  upright  and 
abreast  through  its  fallen  body.  We  passed  the  "  Faithful 
Couple,"  twin  monarchs  having  one  great  body  and  two  tall 
heads  that  lift  into  the  sunshine  and  the  storm.  We  took 
lunch  near  "  Ohio"  and  "Illinois,"  at  a  bubbling  spring, 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE.  211 

right  under  the  shadow  of  "  General  Grant,"  a  magnificent 
tree,  three  hundred  and  fifty  feet  high  and  twenty-five  feet  in 
diameter.  Most  of  the  trees  are  named  in  honor  of  some  cel- 
ebrated character.  There  was  one  tree  right  across  the  little 
rivulet,  twenty  feet  in  diameter,  and  three  hundred  and  twenty- 
five  feet  high. 

On  our  return  to  Clark's  ranch  we  were  taken  by  the  guide 
upon  the  highest  peak  of  the  mountain,  where,  looking  down 
into  the  valley,  we  beheld  a  grand  scene  stretching  away  as  far 
as  the  eye  could  reach.  The  wondering  delight  at  the  big  trees 
must  be  seen  to  be  felt. 

A  good  night's  rest  at  Clark's  and  a  good  breakfast  put  us 
in  trim  for  the  twenty-six  mile  trip  to  the  Yosemite.  Over 
hills,  streams,  rocks  and  zigzag  mountain  roads,  we  walked, 
rode,  galloped,  shouted  and  sang.  The  perfume  of  wild  flow- 
ers and  the  aroma  of  the  pine  forest,  brought  to  us  on  the  wings 
of  the  bracing  breeze,  lent  vigor  and  hope  to  the  scene,  and 
prepared  our  minds  for  the  first  view  of  the  Yosemite  Valley, 
as  it  presented  itself  from  Inspiration  Point.  Before  us  lay  the 
winding  beauty  of  the  Merced  River,  meandering  through  a 
sheet  of  emerald,  set  in  a  framework  of  natural  splendor,  and 
across  the  valley  dashed  the  Cascade  Falls,  the  El  Capitan 
Mountain,  where  the  Virgin's  Tear  trickles  down  the  bold  cliff 
in  a  shower  of  diamond  beauty,  catching  the  rays  of  the  eve- 
ning sun  in  its  satin  spray. 

Then  comes  a  grand,  bewildering  succession  of  lofty  peaks 
and  mountains — the  Three  Brothers,  Eagle's  Nest,  Grizzly 
Bear,  the  Yosemite  Falls,  Indian  Canon,  Royal  Arch,  Wash- 
ington Column,  North  Dome,  Mount  Watkins,  Mount  Hoff- 
man, Cathedral  Peaks  and  Clouds'  Rest — ribbed  with  snow 
and  sunshine  far  above  them  all.  Then  we  see  South  Dome 
and  Mirror  Lake  at  the  base  ;  Unicorn  Group,  Mount  Missouri, 
covered  with  snow  and  pines ;  Sentinel  Dome,  Sentinel  Rock, 
the  Three  Graces,  with  the  Bridal  Veil,  flowing  over  the  round- 
ed rocks  in  gauzy  grandeur,  shadowed  by  the  Leaning  Tower, 
and  right  in  front  of  where  I  stand  the  bold  sides  of  Palisade 


212  A  CHECKERED  LIFE. 

Rock,  its  steps  washed  by  Cataract  Falls ;  and  here  my  vision 
and  mind  checks  in  mute  admiration  at  the  circling  wonders 
of  the  deep  valley. 

Taking  shelter  for  the  night  at  one  of  the  so-called  hotels,  I 
proceed  in  company  with  the  guide  to  view  the  beauty  of  Ver- 
nal Falls,  350  feet,  Nevada  Falls,  700  feet,  and  Glacier  Point. 
Passing  up  the  brawling  stream  to  the  falls,  great  jagged  rocks 
that  have  fallen  from  the  crags  intercept  the  way,  and  fearful 
mountain  walls  and  jutting  cliffs  shadow  the  traveler.  Vernal 
Falls,  as  seen  from  above,  looks  like  a  huge  sheet  of  fretted 
lace,  with  a  dash  of  bright  green  through  its  folds — the  margin 
pines  reflected  in  the  troubled  waters.  Leaning  over  the  bal- 
ustered rock  at  the  edge  of  the  falls,  you  gaze  down  into  the 
gorge  below,  spanned  by  the  rainbow  of  promise,  the  spurting 
spray  dashing  from  the  rocks  in  clouds  of  beauty.  A  hundred 
yards  above  Vernal  Falls  is  Silver  Chute,  running  over  an  in- 
clined bed  of  granite,  with  more  than  the  rapidity  of  a  race- 
horse. A  large  rock  thrown  into  the  stream  by  the  guide  was- 
swept  over  like  a  chip.  Wild  Cat  Chute,  just  above  Silver 
Chute  and  under  the  shadow  of  Liberty  Cap,  is  one  of  the 
most  interesting  spots  in  the  valley.  Leaning  over  the  rustic 
bridge  that  spans  the  rocky  gorge  leading  to  Snow's  Hotel,— 
Vernal  Falls  and  Glacier  Point,  to  the  front,  and  Nevada  Falls 
to  the  rear — the  traveler  gazes  in  silent  astonishment  at  the  wild 
plunges  of  the  cataract  as  it  escapes  from  the  rocky  jaws,  set 
with  granite  teeth  that  have  tested  tide  and  time.  Look  for  a 
moment  at  the  milk-white  spray  leaping  into  coral  trees,  chas- 
ing each  other  with  the  rapidity  of  lightning  as  they  dash 
through  the*  rocks,  and  the  sunlit  rainbow  circling  the  wild  rush 
of  the  stream.  Let  loose  suddenly  the  Compton  Hill  Reser- 
voir, through  a  metal  tube,  three  feet  in  diameter,  the  nozzle 
at  the  Globe  office,  and  you  can  conceive  the  desperate  dash  of 
the  Wild  Cat  Chute.  Take  this  point,  all  in  all,  with  the 
cracked  mountain,  falls,  trees,  sunshine,  pine  shadows  and 
cloudless  dome  of  heaven,  it  is,  without  exception,  the  wildest, 
grandest  spot  in  the  Yosemite. 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE.  213 

Leaving  Snow's  Hotel,  the  guide  led  me  up  a  narrow  gorge 
at  the  base  of  Liberty  Cap,  and  on  to  the  left  of  Nevada  Falls, 
where  the  crooked  road  angles  every  fifty  feet  in  reaching  the 
table  rock.  Arriving  at  the  top,  I  scampered  over  the  drift- 
wood and  rocks  until  I  sat  upon  the  rocking  boulder  that  juts 
out  over  the  fearful  fall,  where  the  boiling,  steaming  waters 
dash  in  eternal  fury  down  to  the  mad  stream  below,  where  the 
tall  pines  reflect  their  green  branches  and  dark  shadows  in  the 
churned  stream.  Liberty  Cap  looms  up  on  my  right,  its  splin- 
tered sides  flecked  with  passing  clouds  and  scorched  by  the  sun 
of  centuries.  Far  to  the  north-west  is  Eagle  Point,  Glacier 
Mountain,  and  away  over  the  brow  of  El  Capitan  the  clamber- 
ing clouds  pile  upon  each  other,  showing  the  bright  blue  of 
the  horizon  through  their  fleecy  folds,  where  the  rays  of  the 
warm  sunshine  dance  to  the  music  of  the  wild  winds. 

Winding  around  the  rocky  ribs  of  Piney  Point,  I  passed  over 
a  bridge  that  led  up  the  steep  sides  of  Glacier  Mountain,  and 
looking  back  to  the  east  saw  the  grand  gorge  of  Vernal  and 
Nevada  Falls,  hemmed  in  by  the  monarchs  of  the  mountains, 
margined  by  the  graceful  branches  of  the  pines,  and  singing 
the  song  of  the  universe.  From  the  top  rock  of  Glacier  Point, 
inspired  with  fearful  awe,  the  traveler  gazes  upon  the  immediate 
beauty  and  grandeur  of  the  Yosemite  Valley.  Four  thousand 
feet  below,  the  hotels  sit  like  bird  cages  on  the  margin  of  the 
Merced  River,  as  it  meanders  on  its  brawling  way  to  the  sea. 
The  Yosemite  Falls  is  immediately  in  front,  across  the  valley, 
while  to  the  right  you  see  the  bold  form  of  South  Dome  re- 
flected in  Mirror  Lake,  with  the  inverted  forms  of  pines  pho- 
tographed in  its  glassy  bosom,  stirred  by  the  gentle  breeze  that 
fitfully  lingers  in  doubtful  repose  in  this  emerald  gem  of  the 
Yosemite.  In  the  early  pre- Adamite  days,  when  the  mountains 
battled  for  the  mastery,  and  volcanie  fires  and  earthquakes  shook 
the  world,  Clouds'  Rest  and  South  Dome  fought  long  and 
fierce;  but  when  the  temper  of  the  mountains  "cooled,  there 
stood  Clouds'  Rest  above  them  all,  while  South  Dome  stood 
near  by  and  defiant,  but  conquered  in  the  contest. 


214 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE. 


Descending  from  Glacier  Point,  you  pass  Union  Point,  and 
turning  the  angles  of  the  zigzag  road,  an  ever-changing  scene 
is  presented.  The  rocks  that  but  a  moment  ago  looked  like 
rugged  crags,  now  assume  the  shape  of  cathedral  spires,  point- 
ed peaks  or  bald  boulders;  and  the  little  fall  seen  in  the  dis- 
tance, like  a  silver  ribbon  fretted  by  the  wind,  changes  to  the 
Bridal  Veil,  Yosemite  or  Nevada ;  and  that  still  small  voice, 
hushed  by  the  sighing  pines,  breaks  upon  the  ear  at  the  turn  of 
yon  mountain  point  with  the  complaining  roar  of  the  cataract. 

In  closing  up  my  wild  wanderings  in  the  valley,  I  induced 
Mr.  Cook,  wife  and  daughter,  to  accompany  me  to  the  top  of 
Clouds'  Rest,  the  highest  point,  twelve  thousand  feet  above  the 
level  of  the  sea.  We  were  among  the  first  of  this  season  to  un- 
dertake the  hazardous  journey.  Mounting  my  zebra  mule,  I 
dashed  away  over  three  miles  of  snow,  from  five  to  fifty  feet 
deep,  our  animals  sinking  at  every  step.  There  was  no  trail 
after  we  struck  the  snow-line,  but  keeping  my  eye  on  the 
mountain  top,  and  leaving  the  guide  to  aid  the  ladies,  I  pushed 
onward  and  upward,  through  pine  forests,  throwing  their  dark 
branches  on  the  bright  snow,  with  occasional  murmurs  at  my 
audacity  in  disturbing  their  sleep.  When  near  the  mountain 
top  a  fearful  storm  came  up,  skipping  through  the  tree  tops, 
causing  a  panther  to  jump  across  my  path,  and  disappear  down 
the  gorges.  Being  anxious  to  take  my  mule  on  the  granite 
back-bone  of  the  Sierra  Nevadas,  I  rode  far  ahead  of  the  party, 
getting  along  boldly  on  the  crest  of  snow  that  divided  and 
showed  the  rough  rocks  on  either  side  far  down  into  the  dark 
valley,  when  all  at  once,  and  within  fifty  feet  of  the  top,  the 
mule  sank  into  the  snow  and  threw  this  wandering  Arab  over 
his  head.  Then  you  might  see  a  solitary  mule,  "  as  it  were," 
lunging  about  and  sinking  until  nothing  could  be  seen  but  his 
ears  and  tail  wagging  in  the  breeze  of  freedom,  and  the  rider, 
"  so  to  speak,"  holding  on  to  the  bridle  like  grim  death  to  one 
of  our  ebony  fellow-citizens  ! 

The  view  from  Clouds'  Rest  is  simply  magnificent.  Far  be- 
low where  I  sat,  the  clouds  whirled  and  broke  into  banks  of  fog, 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE. 


215 


ripped  up  by  the  winds  and  painted  by  the  darting  rays  of  the 
sun.  Looking  to  the  far  west  and  into  the  green  valley,  I  saw 
before  and  around  me  Mt.  Hoffman,  Mt.  Watkins,  North 
Dome,  the  spray  of  the  Yosemite  Falls,  Eagle  Point,  El  Capi- 
tan,  Inspiration  Point ;  at  the  foot  of  the  valley,  the  Three 
Graces,  Sentinel  Rock,  Sentinel  Dome,  Glacier  Point,  South 
Dome,  Piney  Point,  Liberty  Cap,  Mt.  Broderick,  Mt.  Starr 
King,  Cloud  Peak,  Unicorn  Group,  Mt.  Washington  and  Mt. 
Clark,  the  snow  melting  and  dashing  down  the  mountain  sides, 
the  fleecy  clouds  flying  to  the  north,  and  far  below  I  beheld  the 
glory  of  the  far-off  peaks  as  they  jut  up  and  beyond  the  rim  of 
the  blue  horizon. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

RETURN    FROM   CALIFORNIA. VISIT  TO    BRIGHAM    YOUNG. PEN- 
SKETCHES    OF    OLD    FRIENDS   AND    ASSOCIATES. 

On  my  return  trip  from  California  I  stopped  off  for  two  days 
at  .Salt  Lake  City  to  examine  the  collector's  office,  and  take  in 
the  "malaria"  of  Mormonism.  I  put  up  at  the  Townsend 
House,  visited  the  Mount  Zion  combination  stores,  the  Bee- 
Hive  and  the  Temple,  rode  out  to  Camp  Douglas,  and  gazed  in 
wonder  upon  the  blooming  fields  that  a  fanatical  religion  had 
grasped  out  of  the  desert  wastes  of  Utah.  To  cap  the  climax 
of  my  curiosity,  I  talked  and  dined  with  Brigham  Young  and 
two  of  his  wives.  He  reminded  me  of  a  gnarled  oak  that  had 
withstood  the  storms  of  centuries,  and  with  his  large  head,  thick 
neck  and  deep-set  eyes,  impressed  me  as  a  man  of  wonderful 
firmness,  tenacity  and  indomitable  perseverance,  combined  wich 
cunning,  hope  and  tyranny.  We  talked  freely  of  the  prospects 
of  Mormonism  in  the  march  of  civilization,  and  he  strongly  in- 
sisted that  the  constitution  of  the  United  States  guaranteed 
freedom  of  religion  to  every  man  and  woman  in  the  nation ; 
and  that  every  human  being  was  privileged  to  worship  God  ac- 
cording to  the  dictates  of  his  conscience. 

I  could  not  well  combat  this  logic,  and  replied  that  it  was 
not  the  mere  ritual  or  creed  of  the  Mormon  religion  that  the 
people  of  the  United  States  so  objected  to,  but  to  the  blister- 
ing doctrine  of  polygamy,  where  one  man  was  accorded  the 
right  to  take  a  hundred  or  a  thousand  women  to  satisfy  his  lust. 
He  quickly  replied  :  "  Even  in  this  we  have  the  precedent  of 
the  old  patriarchs,  David  and  Solomon ;  and  if  they  were  wrong, 

216 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE.  217 

why  do  you  preach  their  lives  from  your  pulpits  every  day  ? 
Throw  away  your  Bible ;  let  your  city  men  be  honest  and  true 
to  one  wife,  and  not  in  midnight  hours  give  loose  to  their  pas- 
sions over  the  wine-cup  and  at  the  silken  couches  of  illicit  love. 
Mormonism  tolerates  no  hypocrites.  We  practice  what  we 
preach,  and  preach  what  we  practice  in  the  sight  of  God  and 
man  ;  and  from  a  handful  of  devoted  worshippers  who  followed 
in  the  footsteps  of  our  chief  prophet,  Joseph  Smith,  and  who 
revere  his  memory  with  undying  affection,  we  plucked  from  the 
wilds  of  nature  this  rich  territory,  through  the  very  religion  you 
Gentiles  ignorantly  condemn  !  No,  sir,  it  is  the  cupidity  and 
robbing  propensity  of  the  Christian  that  turns  his  hand  in  this 
direction,  and  his  professed  horror  at  polygamy  is  only  a  sub- 
terfuge for  his  grasping  avarice  \  and  since  he  has  "  might"  on 
his  side,  readily  makes  it  "  right"  to  prowl  like  a  bold  bandit 
amid  these  gold  and  silver  mountains,  rich  valleys  and  fertile 
fields,  in  search  of  wealth,  booty  and  empire  ! ' ' 

I  leave  legislators  and  ministers  to  reply  to  these  arguments, 
contenting  myselt  with  the  remembrance  that  I  dined  with 
one  of  the  religion  manufacturers  of  the  world. 

I  returned  to  St.  Louis,  and  immediately  visited  Washington. 
The  Commissioner  of  Internal  Revenue  was  so  well  pleased 
with  my  work  that  he  gave  me  an  order  to  proceed  to  New 
York  and  New  England  to  examine  the  collectors'  and  super- 
visors' offices  in  that  region. 

It  was  the  month  of  July,  and  while  I  did  not  go  on  my 
eastern  tour  for  any  special  investigation,  my  orders  would  per- 
mit me  to  combine  pleasure  with  business,  just  as  presidents, 
senators,  representatives,  cabinet  ministers  and  generals  do  in 
their  tours  of  investigation  and  inspection,  when  the  so-called 
"  malaria"  of  Washington,  drives  them  to  Newport,  Cape  May, 
Coney  Island,  Long  Branch,  Saratoga  and  the  Rocky  Mount- 
ains. This  is  certainly  a  great  country  ! 

I  returned  to  St.  Louis  in  due  course,  and  put  on  official 
harness  with  the  same  ease  I  had  discarded  it  in  my  eastern 
tour.  Politics  and  official  business  went  hand  in  hand  with  me. 


218  A  CHECKERED  LIFE. 

During  the  five  years  I  lived  in  St.  Louis  I  became  acquaint- 
ed with  a  number  of  representative  gentlemen. 

Among  the  most  prominent  of  my  associates  were  Col.  J.  C. 
Normile,  William  Patrick,  Chester  H.  Krum,  Thomas  C. 
Fletcher  and  Nat  Claiborne,  of  the  law  profession. 

Among  journalists  I  held  social  relations  with  Stilson  Hutch- 
ins,  of  the  Times;  Joseph  Putlizer,  of  the  Westlich  Post ;  Wil- 
liam M.  Grosvenor,  of  the  Democrat ;  William  Hyde,  of  the 
Republican,  and  Joseph  B.  McCullagh,  of  the  Globe-Democrat. 

The  stable  and  influential  citizens  who  gave  me  their  friend- 
ship were  David  Armstrong,  Isaac  Cook,  E.  O.  Stanard,  A. 
W.  Slayback  and  James  B.  Eads. 

As  each  of  these  fifteen  self-made  men  bore  a  prominent  part 
in  the  make-up  of  the  community  who  trusted  and  honored 
them,  a  pen-picture  of  each  may  not  be  uninteresting  to  the 
reader. 

*** 

Col.  J.  C.  NORMILE  was  born  in  Ireland,  on  the  banks  of  the 
Shannon,  and  emigrated  with  his  parents  at  an  early  age  to 
America. 

He  went  to  school  and  graduated  at  the  Georgetown  Jesuit 
University  in  the  District  of  Columbia,  and  afterwards  studied 
law  in  the  office  of  Hon.  Thomas  Ewing,  ot  Ohio.  Secretary 
Browning,  of  Illinois,  took  great  interest  in  Normile,  and  keen- 
ly appreciated  the  fund  of  literary  information  possessed  by  his 
young  friend.  While  he  was  Secretary  of  the  Interior,  under 
President  Johnson,  Browning  made  Normile  Librarian  of  the 
Interior  Department,  and  was  so  well  pleased  with  him  that 
the  young  lawyer  was  a  constant  companion  of  the  Secretary, 
sharing  his  home  and  hospitable  board  on  the  heights  of 
Georgetown. 

When  a  change  in  the  political  complexion  of  the  Depart- 
ments took  place,  on  the  advent  of  General  Grant  to  the  Ex- 
ecutive Chair,  Col.  Normile  determined  to  resign  his  lucrative 
office,  and  cast  his  lot  with  the  progressive  citizens  of  the 
teeming  West.  He  appeared  in  St.  Louis  a  stranger,  with  no 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE.  21$ 

friend  but  his  talents,  and  no  fortune  but  that  courage  and  in- 
domitable perseverance  that  never  fails  ultimately  to  secure 
success. 

It  was  soon  discovered  that  Normile  had  unusual  ability  as  a 
writer  and  orator,  and  when  he  first  shone  as  a  forensic  debater 
and  pleader  in  the  celebrated  Fore-Beech  murder  case,  the 
whole  bar  as  well  as  the  press  acknowledged  him  a  master  of 
magnetic  eloquence,  whose  lacerating  logic  and  classic  periods 
went  to  the  heart  and  soul  of  the  vulnerable  jury,  securing  an 
acquittal  of  a  cold-blooded  murderer,  on  the  technical  plea  of 
insanity. 

The  Democratic  party,  soon  after  the  acquittal  of  Fore,  nom- 
inated Col.  Normile  on  their  ticket  for  the  position  of  Com- 
monwealth Attorney,  and  while  some  of  the  ticket  was  defeated, 
Normile  was  triumphantly  elected,  and  served  four  years  as 
district  attorney,  doing  great  credit  to  himself  as  a  criminal 
prosecutor,  and  conferring  honor  upon  his  adopted  state. 

What  was  very  strange,  and  seemingly  providential,  the  very 
man,  Joe  Fore,  who  was  defended  and  acquitted  through  the 
instrumentality  of  Normile  in  the  murder  case,  was  afterwards 
prosecuted,  convicted  and  sentenced  to  ten  years'  imprisonment 
for  an  assault,  with  intent  to  kill,  upon  his  wife.  Thus,  as  a 
defender  and  prosecutor,  one  man  rises  into  fame  upon  the 
pivot  of  a  criminal  action,  while  the  other  unfortunate  lan- 
guishes in  lunatic  desperation  in  a  felon's  cell,  and  finally  dies 
by  the  knife  of  a  fellow-prisoner. 

"  God  moves  in  a  mysterious  way 

His  wonders  to  perfoim  ; 
Me  plants  his  footsteps  in  the  sea 
And  rides  upon  the  storm." 

The  declamations,  speeches  and  orations  ofrformile  are  va- 
rious, and  his  services  were  in  continuous  demand  at  every  so- 
ciety and  club  entertainment,  where  Attic  wit  and  poetic  elo- 
quence struggled  for  the  mastery.  His  oration  appealing  for 
the  acquittal  of  Fore  in  the  Beech  murder  case  was  a  classic  pro- 
duction, and  worthy  the  oratorical  flights  of  Wirt,  Prentice  or 


220  A  CHECKERED  LIFE, 

Brady.  His  oration  before  the  Knights  of  Saint  Patrick,  at  a 
Southern  Hotel  banquet,  might  rank  with  the  flowing  periods  of 
Sheridan,  Meagher  or  O' Gorman;  and  wherever  the  Celtic 
race  rises  into  the  realms  of  mellifluous  eloquence,  the  orations 
of  Normile  should  be  placed  in  the  front  rank  of  the  impas- 
sioned productions. 

It  was  my  privilege  to  be  the  intimate  companion  of  Nor- 
mile  for  nearly  five  years;  and  while  we  differed  in  many 
characteristics,  there  was  no  break  in  our  mutual  confidence, 
and  no  frost-work  to  chill  the  warmth  of  our  friendship. 

*** 

WILLIAM  PATRICK  was  Assistant  United  States  District  Attor- 
ney, under  Chester  Krum,  when  I  first  made  his  acquaintance. 
He  had  been  educated  in  Philadelphia,  studied  law,  and  moved 
to  St.  Louis,  where  he  at  once  took  rank  as  a  gentleman  of 
honor  and  a  lawyer  of  unusual  legal  attainments.  His  form 
was  built  in  the  nervous,  willowy,  classic  mould,  and  his  blue 
eye  flashed  love  or  defiance  as  the  lightning  darts  from  a 
thunder-cloud  to  waste  itself  in  airy  nothingness,  or  strike  the 
fatal  blow.  His  keen  perception  of  men  and  their  motives 
made  him  a  valuable  acquisition  to  a  client,  and  the  same  en- 
ergy, ability  and  honesty  that  guaranteed  success  to  his  civil 
clients  was  doubly  enhanced  when  he  became  United  States 
District  Attorney  for  the  Eastern  District  of  Missouri. 

I  was  personally,  politically  and  officially  associated  with 
Mr.  Patrick  for  four  years,  and  sounded  the  very  secret  springs 
of  his  enthusiastic  nature.  If  you  approached  him  with  sin- 
cerity and  honesty,  he  met  you  squarely  on  the  same  basis ; 
but  if  you  attempted  by  innuendo  and  subterfuge  to  divine  his 
will,  he  was  as  silent  and  mysterious  as  an  Egyptian  mummy. 

He  was  the  Very  soul  of  honor ;  would  not  conspire  to  be- 
tray, and  would  not  conciliate  for  profit  or  immunity.  He 
performed  his  whole  duty  to  the  defendant  and  the  Govern- 
ment ;  and  when  a  man  threw  up  his  hands  and  asked  mercy, 
he  was  the  first  officer  of  the  court  to  find  some  palliating 
circumstance  to  relieve  the  victim  of  the  law. 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE.  221 

As  an  officer,  I  always  found  him  honest  and  faithful ;  as  a 
politician,  he  was  reliable  and  unflinching ;  as  a  friend,  he  was- 
generous  and  kind  ;  and  as  a  man,  he  was  noble  and  sincere. 

*** 

CHESTER  H.  KRUM  was  considered  a  learned  young  lawyer 
when  he  graduated  from  Harvard.  His  father,  John  M.  Krum, 
had  been  practicing  law  in  Missouri  for  more  than  forty  years, 
and  the  detailed  office  knowledge  imparted  to  the  son  made 
him  at  once  a  successful  practitioner.  When  I  first  went  to- 
St.  Louis,  I  found  Judge  Krum  in  the  position  of  United  States- 
District  Attorney,  and  was  necessarily  brought  in  contact  with 
his  office  in  the  prosecution  of  revenue  cases. 

His  form  was  large,  round  and  dignified  ;  and  with  his  mild 
dark  eye,  matchless  teeth  and  elevated  forehead,  he  might  have 
been  taken  for  any  of  the  double  storied  lawyers  who  have 
honored  the  bar  and  bench  since  the  days  of  Lord  Mansfield. 
When  not  officially  engaged,  we  often  met  with  a  circle  of 
choice  spirits  and  whiled  the  hours  away  in  hatching  political 
plans,  singing  songs,  or  clinking  glasses  to  the  memory  of  our 
ancient  friend  Bacchus. 

Judge  Krum  was  not  demonstrative  to  ordinary  acquaint- 
ances, but  when  he  found  a  truthful  and  trustful  spirit,  the  icy 
margin  of  formality  faded  away  before  the  sunshine  of  confi- 
dence and  friendship. 

*** 

THOMAS  C.  FLETCHER  was  born  in  De  Soto,  Missouri,  stud- 
ied law,  moved  to  St.  Louis,  became  a  major-general  during 
the  late  Rebellion,  and  about  the  close  of  the  war  was  elected 
Governor  of  his  native  state.  He  was  the  only  Governor  of 
Missouri  who  had  been  born  in  the  state ;  and  although  the 
commonwealth  had  been  devoted  to  slavery  in  the  old  days, 
he  never  sanctioned  or  acknowledged  the  proposition  that  one 
man  could  rightfully  own  another  as  a  chattel ;  and  as  a  result 
of  this  philosophy  was  elected  a  Republican  Governor. 

Mr.  Fletcher  is  a  fine  specimen  of  stalwart  manhood,  stand- 
ing six  feet  two  inches,  and  weighing  over  two  hundred  pounds. 


222  A  CHECKERED  LIFE. 

His  head  is  massive,  and  his  mild,  enchanting  eye  never  fails 
to  secure  confidence.  His  worst  fault  is  his  excess  of  good 
nature,  that  will  not  allow  him  to  repel  even  those  who  may 
have  injured  him.  Like  the  Vicar  of  Wakefield  with  his  poor 
congregation — 

"Careless  their  merits  or  their  faults  to  scan, 
His  pity  gave  ere  charity  began; 
Thus  to  relieve  the  wretched  was  his  pride, 
And  even  his  failings  leaned  to  virtue's  side." 

Mr.  Fletcher  is  a  good  lawyer,  a  renowned  orator,  and  an 
unchanging  friend.  He  is  incapable  of  performing  a  mean  act ; 
and  while  he  may  be  slow  in  reaching  a  given  point,  he  never 
fails  to  reach  it  in  the  end.  His  Masonic  brethren  have  reason 
to  take  pride  in  his  truth,  intelligence  and  nobility;  for  as  an 
Eminent  Commander  of  Knight  Templars  he  presided  with 
justice  and  dignity,  leaving  a  memory  that  will  blossom  with  a 
sweet  perfume  when  the  last  sprig  of  acacia  decorates  his  grave. 

His  comrades  who  knew  him  in  the  army  delight  to  honor 
his  genius  and  good  heart,  and  so  long  as  the  Army  of  the 
Tennessee  or  the  loyal  people  for  whom  it  fought  shall  cel- 
ebrate the  victories  of  freedom,  their  friend  and  orator  will 
not  be  forgotten. 

As  a  friend  and  client  I  tested  the  truth  and  fealty  of  Mr. 
Fletcher  in  the  deepest  vale  of  misfortune  ;  and  while  a  con- 
catenation of  unforeseen  circumstances  twined  themselves  about 
me  like  a  group  of  deadly  serpents,  he  never  failed  to  strike 
their  twisting  grip  or  paralyze  their  efforts  for  my  destruction. 
And  when  time  and  the  sunshine  of  redemption  brought  peace 
and  victory  to  my  heart  and  home,  he  delighted  to  break  bread 
at  my  board,  and  praise  me  for  the  fortitude  I  displayed  when 
injustice  and  so-called  reform  sought  my  ruin. 

*** 

NAT.  CLAIBORNE  was  born  in  the  Old  Dominion,  in  the  re- 
gion of  its  earliest  settlement,  and  imbibed  from  his  surround- 
ings the  miasma  of  slavery.  Yet,  in  his  inmost  heart  he  never 
consented  to  the  right  of  property  in  man,  because  his  native 


A   CHECKERED  LIFE.  223 

generosity,  charity  and  love  of  liberty  made  him  the  natural 
enemy  of  oppression  and  wrong. 

Leaving  Virginia  at  an  early  day,  he  came  to  St.  Louis  and 
began  the  practice  of  law.  For  the  daily  rut  and  routine  of  a 
law  office  he  had  little  taste ;  but  when  the  Democratic  party 
wanted  an  orator,  or  a  special  gathering  needed  a  flowery  and 
magnetic  speaker,  Claiborne  was  always  in  demand.  I  have 
seen  him  on  the  hustings  electrify  even  the  opposition,  and 
with  his  broad  provincial  pronunciation,  magnetize  the  crowd 
into  continuous  applause,  or  sadden  their  hearts  with  his  tales 
of  woe.  I  met  him  often  under  the  gas-lights  when  his  gen- 
erous nature  found  relief  in  the  wine-cup,  and  his  heart  and 
tongue  bounded  away  in  song  and  story,  as  light  as  the  mist 
on  the  mountain. 

I  shall  long  remember  the  night  at  the  Pacific  Hotel  in  St. 
Joseph,  when  the  state  commissioners  determined  to  locate  the 
lunatic  asylum  in  that  flourishing  city.  John  L.  Bittenger, 
Zach.  Mitchell,  Mr.  Hax,  Joe  Rickey,  Tom  Walsh,  Mr.  Koch, 
Col.  Parker,  Mr.  Toole,  Col.  Wilkinson  and  a  number  of  other 
jolly  spirits,  assembled  in  the  double  parlors  of  the  hotel  to 
celebrate  in  fluid  form  the  decision  of  the  commissioners,  and 
particularly  to  expatiate  upon  the  natural  distribution  of  the 
fifteen  thousand  dollars  that  the  citizens  of  St.  Joseph  contrib- 
uted as  a  practical  argument  in  their  favor,  as  against  the  other 
cities  of  Missouri. 

"  Uncle  Johnny"  Able,  as  he  was  fondly  called  by  "  the 
boys,"  did  the  heavy  part  as  host.  Champagne  flowed  like 
water  from  a  town  pump,  and  as  soon  as  one  basket  of  Mumm 
was  empty,  another  was  opened  with  neatness  and  dispatch. 
About  midnight  a  band  of  three  darkey  minstrels  was  ushered 
into  the  parlors.  One  played  a  banjo,  the  other  a  double  mouth- 
organ,  and  a  small  specimen  from  Congo  performed  on  the 
triangle. 

Doors  were  locked,  and  none  were  admitted  without  the 
royal  countersign — "Mumm."  The  occasion  and  philosophy 
of  the  meeting  made  this  kind  of  a  pass-word  appropriate  and 


224  A  CHECKERED  LIFE. 

invaluable.  The  boys  were  hot,  and  threw  their  garments  right 
and  left  as  a  relief  to  their  volcanic  condition. 

Nat  Claiborne  proposed  a  dance  to  the  classic  tune  of  "  Shoo- 
fly,"  and  the  Congo  minstrels  struck  up  the  air  in  their  most 
inimitable  style,  while  a  circle  of  ghosted  mortals  swung  through 
the  mazy  dance  with  their  under  garments  floating  in  the 
breeze  of  freedom,  and  their  hair  standing  on  end  like  a  collec- 
tion of  serpents  on  the  heads  of  the  Furies.  Nature  was  finally 
exhausted,  the  band  departed,  the  lights  were  turned  low,  Mor- 
pheus usurped  his  magical  reign,  and  the  "good  and  true" 
citizens  of  Missouri  slept  the  sleep  of  the  innocent  and  just ! 

I  hope  the  boys  will  forgive  me  for  "  giving  them  away"  just 
once,  but  if  they  wish  to  swear  to  the  falsity  of  the  foregoing 
charges,  I  shall  attribute  the  tale  to  poetry  and  romance,  leav- 
ing the  god  Mercury  to  bear  the  brunt  of  their  eccentricities. 

V 

STILSON  HUTCHINS,  formerly  editor  of  the  St.  Louis  Times, 
was  born  among  the  sterile  hills  of  New  England,  and  imbibed 
early  in  life  that  spirit  of  self-reliance  and  ambition  co-exten- 
sive with  Yankee  land.  He  came  from  the  humblest  walks  of 
life,  and  the  streets  of  Boston  have  often  echoed  to  the  sound 
of  his  boyish  footsteps  in  search  of  work  and  bread. 

The  crowded  haunts  of  his  native  clime  were  not  congenial 
to  his  impulsive  nature,  and  with  a  bold  heart  and  willing  hand 
he  emigrated  to  the  banks  of  the  Mississippi,  and  pursued  the 
uncertain  life  of  a  newspaper  reporter.  I  first  saw  him  in  Du- 
buque,  Iowa,  in  1865,  when  engaged  on  the  Herald  virih.  Den- 
nis Mahoney,  who  had  been  imprisoned  in  Fort  Lafayette  for 
alleged  treason  against  the  government.  I  met  Hutchins  again 
in  St.  Louis  in  1870,  as  the  managing  man  of  the  Times,  and 
a  free  lance  in  journalism.  He  and  genial  John  Hodnett  were 
the  life  of  the  paper,  cutting  right  into  the  business  and  circu- 
lation of  papers  that  had  been  established  from  thirty  to  sixty 
years.-  His  race  in  St.  Louis  was  long  and  brilliant ;  and  nei- 
ther trouble  nor  misfortune  could  break  his  spirit,  dull  his 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE. 


225 


ambition,  or  dim  the  luster  of  his  editorial  genius.  In  spite  of 
the  most  vindictive  opposition  in  his  own  party,  the  Democrats 
of  St.  Louis  sent  him  to  the  Legislature,  where  he  achieved 
a  reputation  for  pluck,  honesty  and  legislative  daring  second 
to  that  of  no  other  member. 

As  Chairman  of  the  Ways  and  Means  Committee,  he  became 
the  leader  of  the  House,  and  actually  dictated  many  of  the  laws 
that  now  adorn  the  statute  books  of  Missouri. 

He  divines  at  once  the  motives  of  men,  possessing  unlimited 
audacity,  combined  with  faithfulness  and  remarkable  secretive 
powers,  fights  inside  the  circle  and  never  betrays  his  fellows  to 
the  cold  sneer  of  the  rabble  world.  Nature  and  art  he  twists 
to  his  own  uses ;  and  while  generous  to  a  fault,  he  never  neg- 
lects to  take  particular  care  of  number  one. 

In  this  respect  he  is  only  following  out  the  unalterable  laws 
of  self-preservation,  and  protecting  his  material  interests  against 
the  sharks  that  lie  in  wait  to  entrap  the  unwary. 

The  social  cheer  of  Hutchins  is  unbounded,  and  when  the 
cares  of  daily  life  are  ended,  he  rollicks  away  with  his  compan- 
ions as  free  as  a  boy  let  loose  from  school.  As  an  after-dinner 
speaker  he  is  unequaled,  as  a  singer  of  charming  melody  he 
cannot  be  easily  matched,  and  as  a  story-teller  he  is  inimitable. 

He  possesses  a  strong  healthy  frame,  a  square-cut  brow,  a 
bright,  laughing  eye,  a  face  like  a  broad-axe,  a  heart  that  throbs 
like  a  steam  engine,  and  a  soul  that  is  absolutely  irrepressible. 
Had  he  been  educated  in  the  school  of  a  soldier,  or  trained  in 
the  upper  walks  of  military  life,  the  dash  of  Murat,  McPherson 
or  Sheridan  might  have  characterized  his  warlike  career. 

I  was  intimately  acquainted  with  Hutchins  during  my  official 
career  in  St.  Louis,  and  had  ample  opportunity  to  sound  his 
capacity,  generosity  and  honesty,  and  never  found  him  want- 
ing in  these  characteristics,  but  as  true  and  faithful  to  a  prom- 
ise once  given  as  the  stars  to  their  destined  sphere. 

In  the  last  few  years  I  have  frequently  met  him  at  the  Na- 
tional Capital  as  editor  and  proprietor  of  the  Post,  and  the 
same  pluck,  perseverange  and  capacity  that  he  brought  to  his 


226  A  CHECKERED  LIFE. 

work  in  St.  Louis  has  at  last  guaranteed  him  a  magnificent  suc- 
cess in  Washington. 

*** 

JOSEPH  PULITZER,  the  editor  and  proprietor  of  the  St.  Louis 
Evening  Post-Dispatch,  and  present  proprietor  of  the  New  York 
World,  is  a  stalwart  son  of  the  Fatherland.  Nature  fashioned 
him  above  many  of  his  companions,  and  a  rugged  experience 
has  polished  him  into  a  success.  He  emigrated  when  a  boy  to 
America,  and  when  first  he  appeared  in  St.  Louis,  secured  his 
bread  by  daily  labor.  He  fought  for  the  Union  during  the 
late  Rebellion,  and  afterwards  became  a  newspaper  reporter  and 
writer  for  the  Westlich  Post,  one  of  the  best  German  journals 
in  the  nation.  In  time  Pulitzer  became  part  owner  of  the  Post, 
and  while  see-sawing  between  the  two  political  parties,  occu- 
pied several  places  of  honor  and  profit  in  city,  county  and  state 
governments. 

When  Missouri  determined,  a  few  years  since,  to  break  loose 
from  the  "  Drake  Constitution,"  she  sent  a  number  of  her 
most  prominent  citizens  to  Jefferson  City  to  make  a  new  one, 
and  Mr.  Pulitzer  was  chosen  from  the  city  of  St.  Louis  to  aid 
in  the  manufacture  of  the  present  organic  law. 

He  is  a  bold,  intellectual,  sarcastic  character,  taking  the 
world  as  "mine  oyster,"  throwing  the  shells  to  the  rabble, 
while  he  swallows  the  succulent  bivalve  with  that  grace  and 
dignity  conjured  out  of  the  precincts  of  a  superior  nature. 

Had  Pulitzer  lived  in  the  days  of  Lessing,  Kent  and  Goethe, 
he  might  have  aspired  to  the  literature  and  philosophy  of  these 
renowned  Germans,  and  even  now  he  is  capable  of  writing  a 
solid  editorial  on  any  subject  his  mind  attempts  to  fathom  ; 
while  as  an  orator  he  shines  with  force  and  brilliancy,  never 
failing  to  impress  his  audience  by  the  beauty  of  his  words  and 
the  intensity  of  his  action. 

*** 

Col.  WILLIAM  M.  GROSVENOR  is  a  natural  Bohemian,  not 
from  a  foreign  clime,  but  from  the  green  hills  of  New  England. 
He  is  also  a  natural  politician,  taking  to  political  intrigue  as 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE.  22y 

easily  and  felicitously  as  the  most  renowned  diplomat  takes  to 
brandy,  confidence  and  lying.  As  a  financial  and  political 
writer  he  has  few  equals  in  America,  and  no  superior.  He  was 
for  many  years  editor  of  the  St.  Louis  Democrat,  and  impressed 
the  stamp  of  his  wild  genius  upon  that  paper.  There  is  no 
reason  why  he  should  not  have  been  in  the  Congress  of  the 
United  States  as  a  representative  or  senator,  for  surely  he  had 
more  practical,  active,  brilliant  brains  than  Brown,  Drake  or 
Schurz.  He  was  for  many  years  the  power  behind  the  throne 
upon  which  these  men  sat ;  and  although  William  McKee,  the 
proprietor  of  the  Democrat,  possessed  unusual  political  sagacity, 
he  always  deferred  to  the  broad-axe  logic  of  Grosvenor. 

I  have  often,  over  the  wine  cup  in  midnight  hours,  talked 
politics,  patriotism  and  financial  business  with  Con.  Maguire 
and  Col.  Grosvenor  in  the  snuggery  of  John  King,  under  the 
Planter's  House,  and  I  must  say  that  for  fine  conversational 
ability  Grosvenor  could  not  be  easily  matched.  On  the  hust- 
ings he  was  forcible  and  brilliant ;  having  that  swinging,  debo- 
nair manner  that  magnetized  an  audience,  and  elicited  the 
loudest  applause  by  his  beautiful  flights  of  fancy  and  the  logi- 
cal periods  that  fell  from  his  eloquent  lips. 

*** 

WILLIAM  HYDE,  of  the  Republican,  is  the  opposite  of  Col. 
Grosvenor  in  off-hand  brilliancy ;  but  as  a  solid,  staying  char- 
acter, he  has  no  equal  among  St.  Louis  journalists.  As  a  par- 
tisan, he  is  conservative ;  as  a  friend,  he  is  true  and  unflinch- 
ing, and  as  a  solid,  fearless  man,  he  is  safe.  He  is  one  of  the 
characters  that  average  well,  and  while  many  of  his  compeers 
grow  threadbare  with  time,  he  "wears"  the  whole  year  round, 
and  his  friends  find  the  latch-string  to  his  home  and  heart  hang- 
ing just  where  they  left  it. 

Although  Mr.  Hyde  and  myself  were  of  opposite  political 
sentiments,  we  never  let  that  interfere  with  our  social  cheer 
when  John  and  George  Knapp  joined  us  at  the  fascinating  fount 
of  Jaccoby,  who  dispensed  decoctions  fit  for  the  most  esthetic 
followers  of  Bacchus. 


228  A  CHECKERED  LIFE. 

George  Knapp,  the  senior  proprietor  of  the  Republican,  was 
a  man  of  the  kindest  heart,  and  one  of  the  oldest  and  best 
newspaper  men  in  the  nation.  His  word  was  his  bond,  and  his 
judgment  invariably  safe. 

V 

J.  B.  McCuLLAGH,  editor  of  the  Globe-Democrat,  was  born 
in  Dublin,  Ireland,  and  like  millions  of  his  race,  emigrated  to 
America  to  find  fame  and  fortune  as  the  result  of  thought  and 
labor.  After  arriving  in  the  New  World  he  performed  the 
drudgery  of  a  newspaper  office  in  various  places,  and  was  for 
some  years  connected  with  the  Cincinnati  Enquirer  and  Com- 
mercial as  reporter,  correspondent  and  editorial  writer.  Dur- 
ing the  war  he  was  known  as  a  very  enterprising  correspondent 
from  the  front  of  battle,  and  on  one  occasion  was  so  enterprising 
in  getting  news  ahead  of  his  compeers,  that  General  Grant  or- 
dered him  out  of  the  lines.  When  Andy  Johnson  became 
President,  "  Lktle  Mack"  was  writing  for  the  Cincinnati  pa- 
pers, and  upon  a  great  issue  between  the  President  and  Con- 
gress in  the  days  of  Reconstruction,  the  irrepressible  Celt  had 
along  "interview"  with  Mr.  Johnson,  and  sent  it  broadcast 
through  the  country.  This  was  a  novel  stroke  in  journalism, 
being  the  original  "interview"  of  all  the  interviews  that  have 
taken  place  since. 

During  the  editorial  career  of  "  Mack"  he  has  coined  a  num- 
ber of  words,  among  them  "skedaddle,"  "blizzard"  and 
"boom."  The  first  means  the  running  away  of  a  soldier,  the 
second  means  a  fierce,  frosty  Texas  wind-storm,  and  the  third 
means  a  great  rise  in  public  opinion,  as  a  flood  might  rise  in 
the  mountains  and  float  millions  of  saw-logs  to  the  deep  waters 
below. 

As  an  epigrammatic  writer  he  is  unequaled.  He  can  tag  a 
friend  or  an  enemy  with  a  word  or  phrase  that  will  follow  him 
to  his  grave.  The  most  caustic,  pinching  paragraphs  fall  from 
his  facile  pen,  and  he  grasps  with  almost  unerring  knowledge 
the  drift  of  public  opinion.  Naturally  he  is  a  Democrat,  but 
through  policy  and  interest,  party  harness  falls  upon  him  very 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE.  22g 

lightly ;  and  while  he  may  of  late  years  have  voted  the  Repub- 
lican ticket,  yet,  on  general  principles,  he  votes  for  the  man 
and  not  the  party. 

^  I  have  seen  McCullagh  'and  Hutchins  break  lances  of  fun 
and  wit  at  Southern  Hotel  banquets,  and  it  was  better  than  a 
'circus  to  witness  the  jolly  eccentricities  of  these  inimitable  wags 
over  the  "walnuts  and  wine"  in  midnight  hours. 
/•I  was  intimate  with  "Mack"  during  most  ol  my  official  career 
in  St.  Louis ;  and  if  Bonnett  and  Frank  Gregory  are  alive,  they 
may  remember  how,  on  Fourth  street  and  in  the  resort  on  Pine 
street,  we  cracked  jokes  to  the  music  of  champagne  artillery. 
It  was  a  "cold  day"  when  "  Mack"  refused  a  fine  bird-supper 
or  a  wine-bath,  and  I  must  say  that  his  fellow  journalists  of  St. 
Louis  never  failed  to  play  "Barkis"  to  my"Peggoty."  They 
were  the  most  generous  fellows  I  ever  knew — with  another 
man's  purse — a  remarkable  weakness  of  all  "good  and  true" 
Bohemians. 

V 

Hon.  DAVID  H.  ARMSTRONG  was  born  in  Nova  Scotia,  and 
came  to  St.  Louis  more  than  forty  years  ago.  He  taught 
school  for  awhile,  and  earned  a  fine  reputation  in  teaching  the 
young  idea  how  to  shoot.  He  engaged  in  politics  soon  after 
his  advent  to  Missouri,  and  never  failed  to  talk,  work  and  fight 
for  the  Democratic  party.  At  one  time  he  was  postmaster  of 
St.  Louis,  and  for  many  years  held  the  position  of  chairman  of 
the  Democratic  State  Central  Committee.  During  the  war  he 
was  in  constant  hot  water  with  the  Union  soldiers  and  citizens, 
for  while  he  may  not  have  believed  in  the  dissolution  of  the 
Union,  he  insisted  that  everything  should  be  done  according 
to  the  "constitution  of  the  fathers."  He  forgot  that  murder- 
ous war  wiped  out  all  constitutions,  and  that  bayonets  were 
put  above  all  constitutional  provisions. 

The  war  closed  in  Missouri  with  seventy  thousand  men  who 
sympathized  and  fought  for  the  South,  disfranchised  by  the 
"  Drake  Constitution."  Through  the  instrumentality  of  Col. 
Armstrong  and  his  trade  with  Gratz  Brown  &  Co.,  the  Liberal 


2 30  A  CHECKERED  LIFE. 

ticket  was  elected  in  1870,  and  every  man  in  Missouri  was  as 
good  as  his  neighbor,  and  as  the  Hibernian  says,  "  a  great  deal 
better." 

When  the  labor-strikes  of  1876  paralyzed  the  business  of  the 
country,  as  if  an  electric  shock  had  passed  through  the  body 
politic,  Armstrong  was  police  commissioner  of  St.  Louis  ;  and 
as  the  controlling  spirit  of  the  board,  marched  his  policemen 
and  militia  to  the  revolutionary  rendezvous  of  the  rioters,  and 
dispersed  them  at  the  point  of  the  bayonet.  He  is  a  very  rug- 
ged character.  Look  at  him  from  a  surface  view,  and  you  be- 
hold the  lion,  who  has  warred  with  trouble  and  bitter  exper- 
ience. But  on  a  closer  view,  his  friends  know  that  the  gray 
and  gnarled  oak  is  of  sterling  worth,  a  loving  friend  who  will 
grasp  your  hand  in  the  vale  of  adversity,  and  shed  a  tear  with 
the  sweet  pathos  of  a  beautiful  woman  upon  the  ruin  that  mis- 
fortune may  have  wrought.  A  nobler  or  kinder  heart  never 
beat  in  man  ;  and  when  even  his  bold  record  as  a  United  States 
Senator  is  forgotten,  the  memory  of  his  blunt  but  generous 
deeds  will  blossom  from  the  dust  of  Bellefontaine  and  be  remem- 
bered by  every  one  who  hates  hypocrisy  and  loves  liberty. 

*** 

ISAAC  COOK,  President  of  the  American  Wine  Company,  is 
a  man  of  the  strongest  will,  and  a  citizen  of  the  finest  judg- 
ment. The  memory  of  living  man  does  not  run  back  to  his 
early  boyhood,  and  it  has  been  quietly  suggested  by  Charley 
Warner  that  "  Ike"  never  had  a  boyhood,  but  was  born  when 
he  was  a  hundred  and  eighty  years  old.  Some  say  that  he  was 
a  sign  painter  with  Michael  Angelo,  and  aided  in  frescoing  the 
dome  of  St.  Peter.  But  others  have  alleged  that  he  and  Sen- 
ator Douglass  learned  the  Cabinet  business  in  Vermont,  and 
made  Bureaus  for  the  United  States  Government  in  Washing- 
ton and  Chicago. 

He  knew  how  to  "keep  hotel,"  at  any  rate ;  for  the  Amer- 
ican House  in  Chicago  was  for  many  years  the  resort  of  "good 
fellows' '  and  the  Democratic  party,  and  the  same  was  presided 
over  by  Ike  Cook. 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE.  231 

Stephen  A.  Douglass  was  at  one  time  the  bosom  friend  of 
Cook ;  but  when  the  Senator  broke  away  from  President  Bu- 
chanan upon  the  question  of  squatter  sovereignty,  Mr.  Cook 
proposed  to  remain  and  run  the  Chicago  post-office  in  the  in- 
terest of  the  Administration. 

He  made  a  notable  speech  on  one  occasion  to  "the  boys" 
who  assembled  with  banners,  torch-lights  and  thirst  in  front 
of  his  mansion.  In  standing  by  his  cause,  he  wound  up  with 
the  following  peroration:  "Boys,  ' Truth  squashed  to  earth 
will  rise  again/  and  I'll  bet  you  a  thousand  dollars  on  it !  " 

V 

E.  O.  STANARD  is  a  fine  specimen  of  western  manhood. 
His  early  life  was  spent  in  Iowa,  from  which  state  he  removed 
to  Illinois,  and  taught  school.  He  appeared  in  St.  Louis  as  a 
stranger,  and  soon  began  a  successful  business  career.  For 
many  years  he  carried  on  the  business  of  milling  wheat,  and 
his  brand  of  flour  is  known  all  over  the  world.  As  a  member 
of  the  Merchants'  Exchange,  and  as  its  President,  he  secured 
the  confidence  of  all  with  whom  he  traded,  and  his  word  for 
a  car,  train  or  ship  load  of  grain  is  as  good  as  gold. 

He  has  been  successful  in  the  political  field,  being  elected 
Lieut. -Governor  of  Missouri,  and  afterwards  honored  with  a 
seat  in  Congress  by  his  Republican  constituents.  It  is  not 
generally  known  that  while  Mr.  Stanard  was  in  Congress  he  did 
as  much  as  any  man  in  that  body  for  the  interest  of  the  navi- 
gation of  the  Mississippi  River,  and  while  a  member  of  the 
commerce  committee  secured  the  enactment  of  the  law  that 
gave  James  B.  Eads  the  privilege  of  making  the  jetties  a  suc- 
cess. I  was  on  the  floor  of  the  House  the  very  day  the  bill  was 
passed,  and  saw  Stanard  in  constant  and  earnest  argument  with 
the  halting  and  indifferent,  urging  them  to  support  the  claims 
of  the  Mississippi  Valley,  and  impressing  them  with  the  com- 
mercial necessity  of  a  free,  unimpeded  river  to  the  gulf  and 
ocean. 

The  jetty  system  has  proved  a  great  success.  Where  light- 
ers took  millions  from  the  pockets  of  producers  and  merchants, 


232  A  CHECKERED  LIFE. 

by  transferring  freight  from  ocean  vessels  over  a  bar  with  only 
nine  feet  of  water,  the  largest  ocean  steamer — drawing  twenty- 
five  or  thirty  feet — can  now  steam  up  to  the  wharves  at  New 
Orleans  and  discharge  and  ship  the  products  of  all  climes. 
The  action  of  Eads  and  Stanard  has  made  bread  cheaper,  and 
every  citizen  of  the  Union  to-day  profits  by  their  genius. 

*** 

A.  W.  SLAYBACK,  previous  to  the  war,  was  a  lawyer  in  St. 
Joseph,  Missouri.  When  the  first  gun  of  rebellion  sounded,  he 
thought  it  his  duty  to  go  down  to  the  front  of  battle  and  fight 
for  the  Southern  Confederacy.  Thought  and  action  go  hand 
in  hand  with  such  dashing  characters,  and  leaving  relatives 
and  friends  behind,  he  fought  over  three  years  for  the  "stars 
and  bars"  and  the  "lone  star  of  Texas." 

When  the  "  Lost  Cause"  furled  its  banner  forever,  Slay  back 
took  a  trip  to  Mexico  with  a  colony  of  defeated  Confederates, 
intending,  no  doubt,  to  deprive  the  United  States  of  his  brains 
and  genius ;  but  a  longing  for  the  rolling  hills  of  Missouri 
took  possesion  of  his  mind  in  the  gloomy  vales  of  exile,  and 
hearing  that  a  parental  government  was  not  going  to  cut  his 
head  off,  as  had  often  been  the  case  in  other  lands  where  rebel- 
lion suffered  defeat,  he  quietly  came  back  to  that  state,  and 
found  the  world  going  on  just  as  naturally  as  if  he  and  his  self- 
exiled  party  had  not  spurned  the  embrace  of  Uncle  Sam.  He 
settled  in  St.  Louis,  and  at  once  took  position  as  a  talented 
and  pugnacious  lawyer — one  whose  whole  hand  and  heart  went 
together  with  the  untiring  force  of  a  steam  engine. 

As  a  fiery  and  brilliant  orator,  Slayback  had  few  equals ;  and 
the  very  intensity  of  his  periods  and  gestures  forced  conviction 
on  the  mind  of  the  listener.  His  address  upon  the  occasion 
of  the  decoration  of  soldiers'  graves  by  the  "blue"  and  the 
"gray,"  in  May,  1872,  was  a  fine  production.  His  reasons 
for  the  surrender  of  the  Southern  soldiers  were  criticized  by 
his  own  comrades ;  and  as  there  is  a  great  deal  of  philosophy 
and  good  sense  in  his  remarks,  I  give  herewith  the  reasons  as 
he  stated  them : 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE,  233 

"  I  will  tell  you  why  the  Southern  soldiers  grew  weary  of 
the  contest  and  surrendered  their  arms.  It  was  because,  after 
all  their  privations  and  losses,  and  cruel  grief  over  the  bloody 
graves  of  their  fallen  comrades,  they  began  to  look  to  the 
future,  and  to  say :  e  Well,  what  then  ?  '  Made  wiser  by  the 
stern  education  of  war,  their  love  of  constitutional  liberty 
made  them  tremble  for  the  consequence  of  final  success.  They 
saw  that  the  end  of  the  war  in  that  way  would  be  the  begin- 
ning of  others.  They  cast  their  eyes  upon  the  government  at 
Richmond,  and  its  constitution  recognizing  the  right  of  any 
state,  in  certain  contingencies,  to  set  up  a  certain  nationality 
.or  itself,  with  its  little  president  and  little  senate,  its  little  su- 
preme court  and  its  little  navy,  with  its  Palmetto,  its  Pelican, 
or  its  Lone  Star  for  its  flag  ;  and  the  soldier  began  to  ask  him- 
self, 'For  what  am  I  fighting?'  Will  my  children  be  better 
off  when  the  wrongs  I  am  redressing  shall  have  been  succeeded 
by  others  of  greater  magnitude  ?  Will  my  constitutional  rights 
that  will  remain  to  me  in  any  event  be  as  safe  under  the  new 
nationality  as  under  the  old  ?  And  what  can  posterity  gain  by 
exchanging  for  still  another  experiment  the  illustrious  fabric 
that  Washington,  Hamilton,  Jefferson,  Adams  and  the  brave, 
wise  and  good  men  who  shared  their  counsels  and  dangers  es- 
tablished and  bought  with  the  blood  of  my  ancestry  of  the  Rev- 
olution of  1776  ?'  It  was  this  appalling  logic  which  fastened 
upon  the  minds  of  the  Southern  soldiers, 

"  Like  a  phantasmia  or  hideous  dream," 

ana  then  and  not  until  then  did  their  hearts  begin  to  fail  them. 
Hence  it  was  that  when  they  furled  their  flag,  they  furled  it  for- 
ever. Hence  it  was  that  when  they  laid  down  their  arms,  they 
did  so  with  the  full  expectation,  wish  and  understanding  that 
the  flag  they  had  fought  should  become  the  emblem  of  their 
chosen  nationality,  and  that  henceforth  and  forever  these  states 
should  be  in  fact,  as  in  name,  the  United  States  of  America  ! ' ' 

The  logic  of  this  speech,  to  my  mind,  is  irresistible ;  and 
while  many  insist  that  the  ex-Confederates  laid  down  their 
arms  because  they  were  overpowered  by  brute  force,  I  still  be- 
lieve that  thousands  were  inspired  with  the  reason  thus  given 
by  Col.  Slayback,  and  could  truthfully  exclaim  with  the  divine 
bard,  that  it  is  far  better  to 

"  Bear  those  ills  \ve  have, 
Than  fly  to  others  that  we  know  not  of!" 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE 

The  killing  of  Slayback,  in  self-defense,  by  John  A.  Cocke- 
rill,  is  too  recent  for  me  to  comment  upon  ;  the  public  being 
thoroughlyconversant  with  the  sad  affair. 

*** 

Captain  JAMES  B.  EADS  is  a  man  of  remarkable  perseverance 
and  of  extraordinary  genius.  His  perceptive  faculties  are  largely 
developed,  and  his  head  might  serve  as  a  companion  piece  to 
that  of  Bismarck  or  Humboldt. 

Sir  Christopher  Wren  and  John  A.  Robeling  were  never  in- 
spired by  a  larger  scope  of  ambition  in  the  profession  of  engi- 
neering and  architectural  skill  than  Eads.  He  is  equal  to  any 
emergency.  When  the  United  States  Government  wanted  iron- 
clad boats  to  ply  up  and  down  the  waters  of  the  Mississippi 
Valley  during  the  late  war,  Captain  Eads  jumped  into  the 
arena,  and  fitted  out  a  number  of  iron-clads  to  guard  the  com- 
merce of  the  West. 

When  St.  Louis  stood  halting  for  many  years  as  to  connec- 
tions with  the  East,  with  small  ferries  and  a  river  of  ice  at  its 
front  door,  it  was  Eads  that  came  forward,  and  threw  across 
the  Mississippi  one  of  the  finest  and  strongest  steel  bridges  in 
the  world,  resting  on  piers  and  abutments  that  take  hold  of 
the  "rock  of  ages. ' ' 

When  the  mouth  of  the  Father  of  Waters  became  filled  and 
choked  with  the  sands  of  centuries  brought  down  from  the 
golden  ribs  of  the  Rocky  Mountains,  it  was  Eads  who  planned 
and  executed  the  herculean  task  of  a  national  dentist,  and  tore 
away  its  snaggled  teeth  and  lumpy  roots,  giving  to  the  nation 
a  free  river  to  the  bounding  billows  of  the  ocean. 

Foolish  people  talk  over  and  haggle  about  the  cost  of  iron- 
clads, bridge  and  jetty,  but  if  they  cost  a  hundred  fold  more, 
the  state  and  nation  would  be  the  winner ;  and  when  the  buz- 
zing May-flies  of  to-day  are  forgotten,  the  great  and  glorious 
engineering  feats  of  James  B.  Eads  will  be  cherished  and  re- 
membered by  a  grateful  and  prosperous  country.  He  needs 
no  monument  but  his  generous  deeds,  and  no  glory  but  the 
magnificent  works  he  fashioned  and  erected  ;  and  when  a  thous- 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE.  235 

and  years  hence  Macaulay's  wandering  traveler  from  New  Zea- 
land shall  rest  and  contemplate  upon  the  broken  arches  and 
toppling  piers  of  the  St.  Louis  bridge,  the  name  of  Eads  will 
shine  out  bright  and  clear  amid  the  wrecks  of  tide  and  time. 

*** 

THE  OWL  CLUB,  of  St.  Louis,  was  composed  of  a  number  of 
choice  spirits.  They  were  mostly  newspaper  men,  who  could 
drink  with  the  ease  of  a  fish,  talk  wit,  and  sing  in  the  tones  of 
a  mocking-bird.  They  would  have  been  appreciated  around 
Covent  Garden  in  the  literary  London  of  long  ago. 

Eugene  Field  was  a  poetic  leader,  a  rare  genius  in  midnight 
hours,  and  a  Bohemian  of  infinite  resources.  He  could  sing 
like  a  thrush  and  talk  like  an  orator. 

Billy  Steiggers  is  a  wiry,  impulsive,  good-hearted  mortal, 
who  brought  wit  and  rare  songs  to  "  The  Owls,"  and  never  re- 
fused to  bathe  his  classic  form  with  the  imperial  vintage  of  Ike 
Cook. 

Estell  McHenry  was  a  Kentuckian,  and  learned  in  his  col- 
lege days  some  sweet  darkey  melodies.  His  voice  was  rich  and 
high,  and  when  he  sang  the  " Pea  Vine,"  and  appealed  to 
"  Ca'line"  to  "dance,"  the  boys  could  not  resist  the  impulse 
to  execute  the  "grape-vine  twist." 

George  Gilson  was  a  never-failing  attendant  at  the  meetings 
of  the  "  Owl  Club."  He  would  miss  a  meal  or  fail  to  attend 
church  rather  than  absent  himself  from  the  vocal  conclave. 

My  songs,  "Go  Way  Old  Man,"  "Lula,"  "Dearest  May," 
"Karney,"  "Off  to  Baltimore,"  "The  Tramp,"  and  "Old  Ken- 
tucky Home,"  never  failed  to  secure  a  rich  chorus.  Some- 
times before  church  began  on  summer  evenings,  the  "  Owls" 
would  spare  a  few  lingering  moments  at  "  Lupe's,"  "George's" 
and  "Harry  Hall's,"  and  give  to  the  crowd  waiting  at  the 
Post  Office  "corners"  a  foretaste  of  the  hymns  awaiting  them  in 
the  solemn  aisles  of  Christian  worship.  I  have  known  many  in- 
stances, however,  where  the  congregation  assembled  to  hear 
the  "Owl  Club"  far  exceeded  the  drowsy  listeners  to  the 


236 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE 


ministers.     But  there  is  no  accounting  for  taste  in  this  queer 
world  of  ours. 

Frank  Gooley,  a  faithful  mason  and  true  man,  was  a  veteran 
member  of  the  "  Owl  Club,"  but  sad,  to  relate,  his  loving,  so- 
cial light  went  out  forever  in  the  smoke  and  fire  of  the  South- 
ern Hotel. 

Peace  to  his  ashes,  a  tear  for  his  loss  ; 

Gone  to  the  home  of  the  crown  and  the  cross  ! 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

THE    WHISKEY  TROUBLES. MY   INDICTMENT,  TRIAL  AND  IMPRIS- 
ONMENT.  ADDRESSES  TO  THE  COURT  AND  JURY,   ETC. 

In  the  winter  of  1874  and  1875,  tne  agitation  of  the  third 
icrrn  question  for  President  was  favorably  considered  by  one 
class  of  citizens,  while  another  class  fiercely  assailed  any  one 
who  dared  to  indulge  in  such  outrageous  opinions. 

The  Civil  Service  and  Political  Reform  Association  of  Amer- 
ica were  surcharged  with  the  idea  that  if  General  Grant  should 
be  nominated  and  elected  President  for  a  third  term,  the  na- 
tion would  sink  into  indistinguishable  ruin,  and  liberty  itself 
take  flight  into  the  realms  of  oblivion. 

Something  must  be  done  to  save  the  Republic  from  the 
clutches  of  a  tyrant  and  a  usurper,  who  had  once  accidentally 
conquered  a  rebellion  against  the  Union  !  The  stride  of  the 
modern  Caesar  to  imperial  power  must  be  checked  at  all  haz- 
zard.  What  should  be  done  ? 

A  conclave  of  these  patriotic  reformers  met  in  New  York, 
and,  imitating  the  tailors  in  Tooley  street,  resolved  themselves 
into  the  people  of  the  United  States.  Some  person  must  be 
found  who  was  in  a  position  to  knife  the  administration  under 
the  fifth  rib,  bring  disgrace  upon  the  President  and  his  politi- 
cal friends,  scandal  to  the  nation,  and  disgust  for  laws  only 
enforced  to  minister  to  the  ambition  of  a  man  who  was  flat- 
tered by  his  henchmen  into  the  belief  that  he  would  ride  in 
triumph  into  the  presidential  chair  on  a  wave  of  reform. 

Benjamin  H.  Bristow,  of  Kentucky,  was  the  Brutus  selected 
by  political  conspirators  to  stab  and  tumble  down  from  his  ex- 
alted station  the  President  of  the  United  States.  A  more  wil- 
ling individual  could  not  be  found  to  deal  the  blow  or  stab 

237 


233  A  CHECKERED  LIFE. 

the  man  who  lifted  him  from  an  obscure  country  lawyer  in  a 
Dorder  state,  through  the  successive  grades  of  district  attorney 
and  solicitor  general,  to  the  Secretaryship  of  the  Treasury. 

In  every  land  and  clime,  where  government  taxes  whiskey 
as  the  product  of  grain,  more  or  less  defrauding  of  the  revenue 
has  taken  place.  In  Germany,  France,  England,  Scotland  and 
Ireland  the  tillers  of  the  soil  in  their  mountain  fastnesses  have 
spurned  with  contempt  the  proposition  to  tax  the  product  of 
their  soil,  and  have  evaded  payment  of  revenue  whenever  pos- 
sible. In  the  days  of  Washington,  a  good  share  of  the  people  of 
Pennsylvania  refused  to  pay  taxes,  and  the  great  general  of  our 
Revolutionary  War  had  to  send  troops  to  crush  out  the  famous 
"Whiskey  Rebellion." 

In  our  times  certain  people  of  Missouri,  Tennessee,  Georgia 
and  Kentucky  have,  in  daily  defiance  of  revenue  laws,  distilled 
the  products  of  their  soil  in  the  gulches  of  rough  hills  and  on 
the  tops  of  high  mountains.  The  "Moonshiner"  and  his  fam- 
ily, since  the  war,  have  been  objects  of  constant  pursuit  and 
prosecution  ;  yet,  even  down  to  this  very  hour,  che  govern- 
ment of  the  United  States  has  not  been  able  to  stamp  out  the 
small  kettle  whiskey  manufacturers  of  the  mountains  Why  ? 
There  is  a  natural  idea  of  independence  in  the  breast  of  the 
rough  farmer  and  stalwart  backwoodsman,  that  says  what  na- 
ture yields  under  his  laborious  hand  can  be  manufactured  and 
sold  without  a  hoard  of  petty  officers  hounding  his  footsteps. 
There  are  many  of  these  rude  swains  who  have  never  seen  a 
revenue  law  or  suffered  the  black-mail  inspection  of  local  ty- 
rants. They  never  consider  chat  it  is  the  province  of  govern- 
ment to  provide  "ways  and  means"  to  maintain  its  own  ex- 
istence in  peace  and  war,  and,  therefore,  regard  the  taxing  of 
their  grain  crops  as  tyrannical. 

In  the  cities  of  the  Un;on  there  are  larger  establishments  for 
the  distillation  of  spirituous  liquors,  and  the  parties  running 
these  distilleries  have  a  better  knowledge  of  their  rights  and 
duties  under  the  laws  than  the  rural  citizen  who  acts  on  ''  his 
own  hook"  among  his  native  hills. 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE.  239 

In  the  spring  of  1875,  it  was  determined  by  the  Secretary  of 
the  Treasury,  in  furtherance  of  his  scheme  for  the  presidency, 
to  make  a  bold  raid  upon  the  distilleries  in  several  of  the  West- 
ern states,  where  General  Grant  was  considered  strong.  After 
agents  and  political  strikers  had  been  investigating  for  many 
months,  the  Secretary,  on  the  tenth  of  May,  1875,  pounced 
down  simultaneously  upon  distilleries  in  Ohio,  Indiana,  Wis- 
consin, Illinois  and  Missouri,  and  seized  indiscriminately  a 
large  number  of  liquor  establishments.  He  procured  the  ar- 
rest of  distillers,  collectors,  agents  and  supervisors.  Then  the 
associated  press  from  Washington,  New  York,  Cincinnati,  Chi- 
cago and  St.  Louis  began  an  incessant  fire  of  newspaper  bullets, 
making  the  Secretary  the  greatest  reformer  of  his  time,  con- 
signing every  man,  woman  and  child  in  the  whiskey  business  to 
the  hospitable  walls  of  a  penitentiary. 

Mole-hills  of  revenue  frauds  were  manufactured  by  the  Civil 
Service  Reformers  into  mountains  of  corruption ;  mountains 
were  exalted  to  the  fiery  heights  of  volcanic  ruin,  and  the  Re- 
public was  on  the  down  grade  to  the  realms  of  Pluto  ! 

The  rebellion  that  Grant  put  down  was  not  a  circumstance 
to  the  danger  arising  to  the  nation  from  the  copper  kettle  of 
the  fraudulent  distiller ;  and  while  he  may  have  defrauded  the 
government  out  of  a  thousand  dollars  a  year,  the  newspaper 
press  was  certain  that  at  least  a  million  had  been  stolen  by  each 
distiller,  rectifier  and  officer  in  the  country. 

During  the  summer  of  1875  tne  United  States  Grand  Jury 
was  assembled  in  St.  Louis  and  Jefferson  City,  and  a  cloud  of 
witnesses  were  sent  before  these  "  good  and  true  men"  for  the 
purpose  of  indicting  every  man  that  would  not  bow  down  to 
Bristow,  and  raise  his  hands  and  voice  to  the  coming  Moses  of 
reform. 

Detectives  were  as  thick  in  St.  Louis  as  maggots  around  a 
corpse ;  and  the  room  of  the  district  attorney  was  the  scene  of 
poor,  little,  cowardly  creatures,  who  always  run  at  the  first  crack 
of  the  rifle,  and  beg  on  their  trembling  knees  immunity  from 
the  imagined  terrors  of  imprisonment. 


240  A  CHECKERED  LIFE. 

After  six  weeks  of  detailed  threats  and  secret  investigation, 
a  large  batch  of  whiskey  men,  citizens  and  officers,  were  indict- 
ed by  the  Grand  Jury ;  the  majority  of  the  jury  being  political 
enemies  of  President  Grant. 

Among  the  rest,  I  was  indicted  for  an  alleged  conspiracy  to 
defraud  the  revenue,  the  written  instrument  stating  that  I  had 
knowledge  that  fraud  was  committed  by  distillers  and  rectifiers, 
and  did  not  report  the  same  to  my  superior  officers,  as  provid- 
ed in  section  5440  of  the  United  States  Statutes.  I  gave  bond 
in  the  sum  of  twenty-five  thousand  dollars  for  my  personal  ap- 
pearance at  the  next  term  of  court. 

The  Grand  Jury  had  heard  of  me  so  much  in  their  six  weeks' 
investigation,  that  they  concluded  to  summon  me  as  a  witness, 
just  before  they  adjourned  sine  die.  I  was  surprised  when 
Marshall  Newcomb  served  upon  me  a  paper  to  appear  forthwith 
before  the  Grand  Jury,  feeling  outraged  that  the  secret  "  Star 
Chamber"  that  had  indicted  me  should  add  insult  to  injury 
by  the  official  summons. 

I  walked  from  the  Planter's  House  down  Olive  street,  to  the 
court-house  on  Third  street,  and  slowly  mounted  the  gloomy 
staircase  to  the  dark  jury-room  in  the  top  corner  of  the  ancient 
building. 

The  more  I  thought  of  their  desire  to  see  me  as  a  curiosity, 
and  humiliate  me  as  a  man,  the  more  did  my  heart  shake  up 
its  resenting  powers ;  and  I  ached  for  the  opportunity  to  show 
my  disgust  for  the  loyal,  rebel,  Dolly  Varden  conclave  of  Bris- 
tow  conspirators. 

When  I  entered  the  room  I  saw  a  long  table  with  about 
twenty  men  ranged  around,  gaping  at  me  with  a  leer  of  curios- 
ity and  imbecility  upon  their  dark  faces.  •  The  district  attorney 
and  the  foreman,  with  a  short-hand  reporter,  sat  at  the  head  of 
the  reputation  slaughter-table. 

The  foreman  motioned  me  to  the  front,  told  me  to  hold  up 
my  hand  and  be  sworn.  I  declined  to  be  sworn  at  that  time, 
and  placing  my  hand  on  the  back  of  a  chair  addressed  the  jury 
in  about  the  following  language : 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE.  241 

Gentlemen  of  the  Jury  : 

On  the  eve  of  your  adjournment,  after  a  six  weeks'  scandal- 
hunt,  and  after  my  indictment  by  your  body,  you  have  deemed 
it  proper  to  summon  me  to  answer  certain  questions. 

My  indictment  was  secured  by  perjured  testimony,  after  a 
promise  of  immunity  by  the  district  attorney  to  the  thieves  he 
manipulates  for  his  official  expectations.  It  is  the  first  shadow 
of  disgrace  that  has  ever  fallen  across  my  pathway,  and  as  your 
body  has  put  this  stain  and  trouble  upon  me,  I  shall  now,  and 
to  the  end  of  these  persecutions,  give  you  and  the  political  offi- 
cers of  the  government  all  the  defiance  I  can  master.  You 
have  acted,  not  for  the  enforcement  of  the  revenue  laws,  but  to 
further  the  presidential  ambition  of  the  Secretary  of  the  Treas- 
ury, and  this  Venetian  council  are  simply  his  tools. 

I  decline  to  be  sworn  by  this  jury,  and  shall  not  answer  ex- 
cept I  am  compelled  by  His  Honor,  Judge  Treat.  I  know  my 
rights,  and  know  full  well  that  your  only  object  is  to  twist  me 
into  saying  something  that  may  injure  myself  or  friends,  which 
I  do  not  propose  to  do.  Now,  gentlemen,  please  consider  that 
I  have  treated  you  with  all  the  contempt  in  my  power,  and  I 
defy  you  to  perform  your  worst." 

After  an  hour  or  so,  the  district  attorney  fixed  up  a  paper  re- 
porting me  as  an  unwilling  witness  to  the  court ;  and  with  the 
foreman  I  was  mustered  before  the  august  tribunal  of  justice, 
and  underwent  investigation  by  Judge  Treat.  He  turned  to 
the  statute,  and  said  that  I  was  not  compelled  to  answer  any 
questions  that  would  militate  against  myself,  but  it  would  be 
best  for  me  to  be  sworn,  and  then  do  in  the  premises  what  I 
thought  right. 

I  consented  to  comply  with  the  rulings  of  His  Honor,  went 
again  to  the  Grand  Jury  room,  was  sworn,  and  answered  a 
number  of  questions  propounded  to  me  by  the  district  attorney, 
to  the  infinite  disappointment  and  disgust  of  the  jury.  I  was 
finally  released  as  an  unusually  stubborn  witness,  and  since  I 
knew  nothing  of  wrong  against  General  O.  E.  Babcock  or 

16 


242 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE. 


President  Grant,  these  political  conspirators  had  no  further  use 
for  me.  The  whole  prosecution  was  inaugurated  and  contin- 
ued for  the  purpose  of  smirching  the  occupants  of  the  White 
House. 

The  same  character  of  indictment  was  found  against  me  in 
the  Western  District  of  Missouri  that  had  been  secured  in  the 
Eastern  District ;  the  prosecution  having  determined  to  make 
sure  of  me  anyhow,  and  put  me  on  the  legal  rack  at  the  first 
court  assembled  in  Jefferson  City. 

The  most  outrageous  newspaper  lies  were  sent  all  over  the 
country  about  me.  One  day  I  had  sailed  to  Europe  from  the 
port  of  New  York  with  a  hundred  thousand  dollars  in  a  grip- 
sack. The  next  day  I  had  jumped  my  bail  bcr.d,  and  gone  to 
Mexico.  Soon  after,  I  had  committed  suicide  by  leaping  from 
the  St.  Louis  bridge,  and  the  next  moment  my  wife  had  died 
of  a  broken  heart  in  consideration  of  the  ruin  I  had  wrought. 

All  this  vacation  time  I  was  drinking  spring  water  and  other 
exhilarating  fluids  near  Green  Lake,  Wisconsin,  dancing  and 
singing  at  the  Oakwood  Hotel,  jesting  with  beautiful  tourists, 
fishing  for  bass  and  pickerel  in  the  green  waters  of  the  lake, 
and  in  twilight  hours  wandering  in  the  grove  with  my  wife  and 
her  lady  friends,  rollicking  away  in  love  and  poetry. 

If  the  newspaper  puritans  knew  how  happy  I  was,  and  the 
real  indifference  I  felt  at  their  efforts  to  put  me  in  prison,  a 
hardware  factory  would  not  be  sufficient  to  furnish  files  for  their 
biting. 

Political  sycophants  and  personal  cowards  had  little  concep- 
tion of  the  determined  character  they  were  dealing  with  ;  for 
if  they  but  knew  it,  even  the  scaffold  has  no  more  terrors  for 
me  than  the  prison,  when  my  heart  and  soul  are  grounded  in 
the  right.  But  the  human  midgets  who  pursued  me  had  no 
thought  of  what  a  true  man  will  do  when  pursued  by  political 
frauds.  In  life  they  doubt  and  hate  themselves,  and  in  death 
they  are  detested  and  forgotten. 

Complications  existing  between  the  duplicate  indictment  at 
Jefferson  City  and  the  one  in  St.  Louis,  culminated  in  my 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE.  243 

sueing  out  a  writ  of  habeas  corpus  touching  the  matter  of  arrest 
and  bail.  The  case  was  heard  before  the  full  bench  of  the 
United  States  Court.  Justice  Miller,  of  the  Supreme  Court, 
Judge  Dillon,  of  the  Circuit  Court,  and  Judge  Treat,  of  the 
District  Court,  heard  the  motion  for  release  from  arrest.  When 
the  hour  arrived,  Marshal  C.  A.  Newcomb  produced  me  in 
court  with  his  return  to  the  writ.  The  court-house  was  full  of 
anxious  and  curious  spectators.  My  lawyer  was  not  present  to 
argue  the  motion,  so  I  concluded  to  argue  the  case  myself,  not- 
withstanding the  old  adage  that,  "  A  man  who  acts  as  his  own 
lawyer  has  a  fool  for  a  client. ' '  But  I  have  never  been  much 
alarmed  at  the  axioms  sharpers  set  up  to  control  cowards. 

The  following  short  speech  was  made  to  the  bench,  with  a 
spirit  of  satire  and  earnestness  : 

"  May  it  please  the  court,  I  have  to  say,  Ji  reply  to  the  hasty 
action  of  the  marshal  in  returning  the  writ  of  habeas  corpus 
before  the  expiration  of  the  three  days  allowed  him  by  law, 
that  my  attorney,  Judge  Chester  H.  Krum,  is  now  in  Jefferson 
City,  and  will  not  probably  return  before  Saturday.  In  con- 
sideration of  this  fact,  I  pray  your  honor  to  grant  me  the  five 
days  allowed  by  law  in  which  to  prepare  for  the  defense  of  my 
personal  liberty. 

I  am  ready  and  willing  to  give  bail  for  any  charges  that  are 
pending  against  me  in  Jefferson  City,  but  as  I  am  under  bond 
to  appear  here  from  day  to  day,  and  not  being  endowed  with 
the  elements  of  ubiquity,  I  trust  this  honorable  court  will  hold 
me  to  answer  its  demands  on  the  principle  that  the  first  mort- 
gage takes  precedence  against  all  subsequent  claims.  Like  Des- 
demona,  I  have  a  divided  duty  to  perform,  and  while  I  shall 
give  to  Brabantio  all  the  legal  friendship  that  is  asked,  I  give 
to  Othello  that  love  born  of  respect  and  duty. 

Notwithstanding  the  cowardly  reports  of  the  newspapers  that 
I  had  absconded  for  foreign  lands  and  was  a  fugitive  from  jus- 
tice, I  stand  here  to-day  as  a  voluntary  testimonial  to  their 
falsehoods.  While  life  lasts,  I  shall  never  desert  my  family, 


244  A  CHECKERED  LIFE. 

my  honor,  or  the  duty  I  owe  my  fellow  man ;  and  all  I  ask, 
standing  here  upon  the  threshold  of  the  courts  of  my  country, 
is  simple,  unadulterated  justice.  " 

Justice  Miller  said  the  matter  could  stand  over  till  Monday 
next.  He  also  stated  that  he  knew  of  no  reason  why  the  pris- 
oner could  not  give  bail  in  St.  Louis  without  being  required 
to  go  to  Jefferson  City  for  that  purpose. 

It  was  consoling  to  know  that  through  the  spring  and  sum- 
mer of  1875,  tne  friends  in  and  out  of  power,  whom  I  had 
known  for  many  years,  never  lost  faith  in  me. 

I  append  hereto  an  autograph  letter,  by  permission,  from 
General  F.  E.  Spinner,  who  had  been  for  more  than  fourteen 
years  the  watch  dog  of  the  Treasury,  but  who  was  finally  forced 
out  of  office  by  Bristow,  because  he  would  not  "Bend  the  preg- 
nant hinges  of  the  knee,  that  thrift  might  follow  fawning. ' ' 

In  the  midst  of  my  legal  troubles,  I  called  at  the  headquar- 
ters of  Gen.  W.  T.  Sherman  for  the  purpose  of  getting  a  copy 
of  his  Memoirs  of  the  Rebellion.  He  was  located  in  St.  Louis 
at  the  time,  with  most  of  his  staff — gentlemen  whom  I  met  in 
the  social  walks  of  life.  Col.  Audenried,  a  brave  and  gallant 
gentleman,  ushered  me  into  the  General's  room.  We  greeted 
each  other  as  soldier  acquaintances,  and  I  disclosed  my  busi- 
ness with  the  remark  that  I  should  be  pleased  to  have  him 
write  his  name  in  his  Memoirs  as  a  remembrance. 

He  at  once  said :  "Joyce,  what  is  this  infernal  thing  I  see 
in  the  papers  about  whiskey  indictments  against  yourself  and 
others?" 

I  told  him  it  was  nothing  out  a  political  move  of  the  Secre- 
tary of  the  Treasury,  to  bring  himself  into  national  notice  on 
a  very  small  capital,  and,  as  a  reformer,  endeavor  to  clutch 
the  Presidency. 

Sherman  said  :  "You  know  I  am  an  everlasting  friend  of  a 
good  and  brave  soldier,  and  what  I  want  to  know  from  you  is 
this  :  Are  you  right,  or  are  you  wrong  ?  If  wrong,  I'm  against 
you;  and  if  right,  I'll  stand  by  you  to  the  last," 


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246  A  CHECKERED  LIFE. 

I  assured  him  I  was  right,  and  that  in  the  coming  years  he 
would  be  convinced  of  my  truth  and  integrity.  Upon  the  fly- 
leaf of  his  book  he  then  placed  the  following  inscription  : 

"  Inscribed  to  my  friend  and  fellow  soldier,  Lieut.-Col.  John  A.  Joyce, 
who  bears  an  honorable  wound  received  at  Kenesaw. 

With  the  compliments  and  best  wishes  of  W.  T.  SHERMAN, 

Saint  Louis,  General. 

June  24,  1875. 

Bristow  was  desperately  in  earnest  in  pushing  uny  trial  at 
Jefferson  when  his  henchmen  at  St.  Louis  found  that  I  could 
not  be  used  for  his  political  ambition.  Orders  had  gone  out 
to  the  District  Attorney  to  push  me  at  once  to  trial,  and  force 
me  into  measures  or  prison. 

The  newspapers  kept  up  a  fusillade  of  buck  and  ball,  shot 
and  shell.  Detectives  were  on  the  track  of  every  man  who 
dared  to  sympathize  with  the  indicted  parties,  and  it  was  worth 
a  citizen's  reputation  to  go  upon  the  bond  of  any  defendant. 
A  long,  snaky,  sniveling  hypocrite  wearing  the  harness  of  the 
Department  of  Justice  in  St.  Louis,  did  not  hesitate  to  throw 
odium  on  some  of  the  best  people  of  Missouri  who  had  the 
bravery  to  stand  by  friends  for  their  personal  appearance  when 
the  courts  demanded  their  presence.  This  walking  blacksnake 
even  telegraphed  to  District  Att'y  Botsford  that  the  bond  I  had 
given  was  a  "straw"  bond,  although  the  day  of  the  receipt  of 
the  dispatch  I  was  present  in  the  court-room  of  Judge  Krekel, 
who  rebuked  the  superserviceable  official  toady  by  stating  that 
if  the  bond  was  "straw,"  the  gentleman  himself  was  not. 

My  case  was  called  up  in  September  before  Arnold  Krekel, 
the  United  States  District  Judge ;  and  while  I  gave  twelve 
sworn  reasons  for  a  continuance  to  the  next  term  of  the  court, 
they  were  brushed  aside  as  chaff,  and  my  case  set  for  absolute 
trial  on  the  2oth  of  October,  and  I  began  to  collect  evidence 
for  my  defense,  during  the  few  days  left  me  before  trial. 

The  four  counts  in  my  indictment  charged  that  I  conspired 
with  one  Feineman,  a  rectifier,  and  Sheehan,  a  distiller,  and 
that  I  did  not  report  knowledge  of  fraud  to  my  superior  officers. 


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248  A  CHECKERED  LIFE. 

On  the  Qth  of  October,  1875,  ^  called  at  the  Treasury  De- 
partment in  Washington  for  the  purpose  of  securing  an  official 
copy  of  a  report  I  had  previously  made  in  regard  to  the  very 
parties  with  whom  it  was  alleged  I  conspired  to  defraud  the 
revenue. 

I  saw  Commissioner  Pratt  and  procured  the  paper  I  wished, 
took  it  to  Mr.  Bristow,  the  Secretary  of  the  Treasury,  who  at- 
tached the  following  official  certificate  that  I  desired  to  use  in 
evidence  at  my  trial : 

UNITED  STATES  OF  AMERICA,     \ 
Treasuiy  Department,  Oct.  pth,  1875.  / 

Pursuant  to  Section  882  of  the  Revised  Statutes,  I  hereby  certify  that  the 
annexed  are  true  copies  of  original  papers  on  file  in  this  Department. 

,-— *— s       In  Witness  Whereof,  I  have  hereunto  set  my  hand,  and  caused 
-j  Seal.  Y  the  seaj  of  the  Treasury  Department  to  be  affixed,  on  the 

day  and  year  first  above  written. 

[Signed]         B.  H.  BRISTO\Y, 

Secretary  of  the  Treasury. 

When  Bristow  signed  the  above  certificate  in  my  presence, 
and  delivered  the  document  into  my  hands,  he  threw  himself 
back  in  his  official  chair  and  opened  the  following  plastic  con- 
versation : 

"Colonel,  I'm  sorry  that  you  have  got  into  this  trouble  ;  I 
have  heard  of  you  as  a  gallant  soldier  from  Kentucky,  and  it 
pains  me  to  see  any  man  from  -our  state,'  who  fought  for  the 
Union,  in  jeopardy.  All  I  wish  is  to  make  a  success  of  these 
whiskey  prosecutions,  and  if  you  will  assist  me  I'll  see  that  you 
have  no  trouble." 

I  replied  that  I  was  just  as  sorry  as  he  was — perhaps  more — 
that  these  troubles  had  come  upon  me ;  but  how  I  could  assist 
him  in  making  a  success  of  the  prosecution  was  a  mystery,  as 
he  knew  that  I  had  no  knowledge  of  the  whiskey  frauds  in 
Missouri. 

He  said:  "Well,  Colonel,  that's  all  right;  I  have  no  dis- 
position to  pursue  you  to  prison,  as  you  were  a  mere  subordi- 
nate ;  but  I  feel  that  these  parties  over  the  way  (pointing  to 


A   CHECKERED  LIFE.  249 

the  White  House)  were  the  responsible  heads  of  the  whole 
whiskey  conspiracy,  and  I  know  you  are  intimate  with  them. 

I  said  I  knew  nothing  about  it,  and  so  far  as  the  White  House 
people  were  concerned,  I  had  never  in  the  whole  course  of  our 
political  and  personal  friendship  spoken  to  them  about  whiskey 
frauds. 

He  looked  up  and  smiled  with  a  bland  expression,  and  re- 
marked :  "Well,  if  you  want  to  go  to  prison  for  other  people,  it 
is  none  of  my  business. ' ' 

I  arose  from  my  seat  by  his  official  chair,  and  replied  to  the 
cunning  bid  he  had  put  in  for  state's  evidence  :  Mr.  Secretary, 
I  told  you  candidly  and  truthfully  that  I  knew  nothing  of  frauds 
upon  the  revenue ;  and  I  regard  your  efforts  to  put  me  in  the 
light  of  an  informer  as  an  insult,  and  your  desire  to  bring 
higher  officers  into  disgrace,  a  piece  of  injustice. 

That  speech  sent  me  to  prison.  I  then  bowed  myself  out  of 
his  office  and  have  not  spoken  to  him  from  that  day  to  this. 

Promptly  on  the  2oth  of  October,  1875, 1 was  placed  on  trial 
at  Jefferson  City,  upon  the  following  four  counts  of  the  indict- 
ment : 

1.  That  one  John  A.  Joyce,  late  of  the  Western  District  of  Missouri, 
and  a  United  States  Revenue  Agent,  had,  while  acting  as  said  Revenue 
Agent,  knowledge  and  information  that  B.  A.  Feineman  and  F.  A.  Hassel- 
man,  rectifiers  and  wholesale  liquor  dealers,  neglected  to  make  an  entry  in 
their  books  of  243  original  packages  of  distilled  spirits  which  had  been 
received  by  them  from  Edward  Sheehan  and  John  P.  Sheehan,  distillers; 
that  said  Joyce,  who  was  a  Revenue  Agent,  failed  to  report  in  writing  said 
knowledge  and  information  of  said  violation  of  the  Revenue  laws. 

2.  That  he  (Joyce)  knew  of  said  1>.  A.  Feineman  &  Co.  having  emptied 
243  packages  of  distilled  spirits  without  first  having  effaced  and  obliterated 
the  marks,  stamps  and  brands  thereon,  and  the  same  he  failed  to  report,  as 
required  by  law. 

3.  That  Sheehan  &  Son  were  engaged  in  and  carried  on  the  business 
of  distillers  of  distilled  spirits,  at  St.  Joseph,  with  intent  to  defraud  the 
United  States  Government  of  the  tax  on  the  spirits  distilled  by  them,  and 
that  the  said  John  A.  Joyce  did  then  and  there  fail,  as  such  officer,  to  report, 
in  writing,  said  knowledge  and  information  of  said  violation,  which  was 
known  to  him,  to  his  next  superior  officer. 


250  A1  CHECKERED  LIFE. 

4.  That  said  John  A.  Joyce  did,  on  the  last  day  of  April,  1874,  at  St. 
Joseph,  Mo.,  then  and  there  conspire  and  collude  with  Edward  Sheehan  & 
Son  to  distill  and  sell  distilled  spirits  without  paying  the  taxes  due  the 
United  States  thereon,  and  to  divide  between  themselves  the  gains  and 
profits  arising  thereirom. 

Feineman,  the  rectifier  at  Kansas  City,  said  in  his  evi- 
dence :  "  I  did  not  tell  Joyce  whether  the  whiskey  entered  on 
my  books  was  straight  or  crooked  ;  he  did  not  ask  me ;  I  gave 
him  to  understand  that  all  the  whiskey  on  my  books  was 
straight." 

Dr.  Joshua  Thorne,  a  former  Assessor  of  Internal  Revenue, 
and  a  voluble  man,  said  :  "  I  remember  talking  with  Joyce  in 
May,  1873,  m  regard  to  making  whiskey,  but  as  I  was  afraid 
to  talk  with  him  about  whiskey,  introduced  him  to  Mr.  Kings- 
bury." 

Mr.  E.  W.  Kingsbury,  a  United  States  Storekeeper,  said : 
"I  had  a  conversation  with  Joyce  in  the  summer  of  1872, 
about  raising  some  money  out  of  the-whiskey  business  for  elec- 
tion purposes.  That  was  the  first  and  only  conversation  I  had 
with  Joyce,  and  I  suppose  he  had  something  to  do  with  my 
removal.  I  have  not  had  kindly  feelings  towards  him  since 
that  time." 

Henry  Borngesser,  the  gauger  at  Sheehan's  St.  Joseph  dis- 
tillery, said  :  "Joyce  was  at  our  distillery  once  ;  he  told  me  not 
to  use  such  large  tacks  in  putting  on  stamps.  This  was  all  the 
conversation  we  had.  I  knew  distilled  spirits  were  manufac- 
tured and  shipped  without  payment  of  tax.  I  am  indicted." 

Mr.  A.  W.  Wells,  Deputy  Collector,  said  :  "I  knew  of  an 
order  changing  storekeepers  and  gangers  in  the  district ;  saw 
Mr.  Joyce  about  the  time,  and  told  Mr.  Wilkinson  that  there 
would  have  to  be  a  change  made  in  the  storekeepers  ;  that  Mr. 
Bittenger  would  be  gauger,  and  I  would  be  storekeeper." 

John  P.  Sheehan,  the  son  and  foreman  of  Sheehan's  distil- 
lery, said:  "We  began  shipping  illicit  spirits  in  1873,  an<^ 
ceased  about  the  i5th  of  April,  1875.  We  stopped  shipment 
before  Joyce  came  to  see  us. ' ' 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE.  251 

Ferdinand  Rendleman,  the  storekeeper  at  Sheehan's  distill- 
ery, said  :  "  Joyce  was  at  our  distillery  with  Mr.  Bittenger,  just 
before  the  seizure.  He  looked  over  our  books,  and  took  some 
numbers.  Sheehan  was  excited  in  the  presence  of  Joyce,  when 
he  began  his  examination  of  the  books.  I  ran  away  to  Texas 
when  the  seizure  was  made,  and  was  brought  back  to  be  used 
as  a  witness.  I  am  indicted  for  fraud.  I  got  fifty  cents  a  bar- 
rel from  Mr.  Sheehan  tor  allowing  him  to  take  the  crooked 
whiskey  away  from  the  distillery.  Borngesser,  the  gauger,  got 
one  dollar  a  barrel  for  helping  to  steal  the  whiskey.  All  this 
time  we  got  our  pay  from  the  government." 

Col.  Wm.  H.  Parker,  Collector  of  Internal  Revenue  for 
Colorado,  said  :  "I  talked  with  Joyce  in  his  room  in  his  hotel 
at  Kansas  City,  regarding  the  seizure  of  several  rectified  pack- 
ages shipped  from  the  the  6th  district  of  Missouri.  There  was 
an  informality  in  the  marks  and  brands,  and  a  discrepancy  in 
the  guaging.  I  told  Mr.  Joyce  there  was  a  discrepancy  of  two 
or  three  per  cent,  in  proof  between  the  gauge  of  Hamilton,  of 
Denver,  and  Marsh,  of  Kansas  City,  but  this  might  naturally 
occur. 

Col.  Joyce  asked  me  to  furnish  him  with  a  copy  of  dupli- 
cate numbers,  that  he  might  search  the  rectifiers'  and  distillers' 
books.  I  visited  Feineman's  establishment  with  Joyce,  staid 
about  an  hour,  and  we  left  together. 

Col.  Joyce  did  not  invite  Supervisor  Hedrick,  Revenue 
Agent  Brown  or  myself  to  examine  the  books ;  neither  did  he 
suggest  or  intimate  that  it  would  be  as  well  not  to  examine 
them.  We.  were  all  officers  and  could  examine  the  books  as 
well  as  Joyce. 

Frank  Hamilton,  gauger,  said  :  "I  saw  Joyce  and  Parker  at 
the  Pacific  House.  Col.  Parker  had  the  memorandum  serial 
numbers  of  the  barrels  that  had  been  shipped  by  Feineman. 
Joyce  did  not  make  any  excuse  for  Feineman.  Joyce  came 
from  St.  Louis  to  Kansas  City  to  meet  us.  He  did  not  apolo- 
gize for  Feineman  &  Co.  Joyce  took  us  all  over  to  Feme- 
man's,  and  left  us  there  to  examine  what  we  wished." 


252  A  CHECKERED  LIFE. 

George  Walker,  clerk  of  Supervisor  Meyer,  produced  an  of- 
ficial letter  of  Joyce,  showing  that  a  report  had  been  made  of 
what  he  found  in  Kansas  City. 

E.  R.  Chapman,  clerk,  produced  an  official  copy  of  a  letter 
of  Joyce  to  the  Department. 

A.  M.  Crane,  Revenue  Agent,  showed  that  the  serial  num- 
bers are  only  entered  once  in  the  books,  whereas  there  may  be 
duplicate  numbers  in  existence.  Sheehan's  books  and  Feine- 
man's  books  coincide  exactly  as  to  sales  and  purchases.  Pack- 
ages may  be  shipped  which  are  not  on  the  books. 

The  foregoing  is  the  evidence  of  the  government  taken  from 
the  official  record  of  the  court  proceedings.  Now,  after  the 
lapse  of  eight  years,  when  a  calm  view  can  be  taken  of  those 
inquisition  days,  I  simply  offer  to  an  honest  world,  and  the 
friends  who  know  me  best,  the  following  reports  as  a  clear  re- 
buttal of  the  evidence  advanced  by  the  prosecution. 

The  reports  will  give  the  lie  to  the  counts  in  the  indictment. 
I  honestly  reported  the  figurative  theory  I  found  on  the  recti- 
fiers' and  distillers'  books  in  Missouri,  but  did  not  report  the 
marks  and  brands  on  the  barrels  in  Colorado,  because  I  did 
not  have  an  opportunity  to  examine  the  material  facts. 

(COPY   OF   TELEGRAM.) 

St.  Louis,  Missouri,  April  23,  1875. 
Hon.  J.  W.  DOUGLASS, 

Com'r  Int.  Rev.,  Washington,  D.  C. 

Pursuant  with  telegram  April  seventeenth  (17),  to  the  Supervisor, 
"have  conferred  with  Collector  Parker,  of  Colorado,  relative  to  detention  of 
spirits  from  the  District.  Has  Parker  reported  seizures  ? 

(Signed)     JNO.  A.  JOYCE,  Rev.  Agent. 

(COPY.) 

UNITED  STATES  INTERNAL  REVENUE. 
Supervisor's  Office,  Dist.  of  Missouri,  Kansas  and  Arkansas, 

St.  Louis,  April  26th,  1875. 
Sir: 

I  have  the  honor  to  state  that  in  accordance  with  instructions,  on  the 
l8th  inst.,  I  proceeded  to  Kansas  City,  Mo.,  to  confer  with  Collector  W. 
H.  Parker  in  relation  to  the  detention  of  certain  rectified  spirits  in  Colorado 
that  had  been  shipped  from  this  supervising  district. 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE. 


253 


I  met  Collector  Parker,  Ganger  Hamilton,  Revenue  Agent  Brown  and 
Supervisor  Hedrick,  and  heard  the  verbal  statement  of  the  Collector  touch- 
ing the  causes  that  induced  him  to  detain  the  spirits  in  question. 

Several  packages  have  been  detained  or  seized,  belonging  to  II.  W.  Gil- 
lett,  of  Leavenworth,  Kansas;  Westheimer  Brothers,  of  St.  Joseph;  and 
B.  A.  Feineman  &  Co.,  of  Kansas  City,  Mo.;  and  two  or  three  lots  from 
liquor  men  in  this  city. 

Collector  Parker  placed  in  my  hands  a  memorandum  of  serial  numbers 
taken  from  some  thirteen  barrels  out  of  the  hundred  and  two  rectified  pack- 
ages detained  at  Granada,  Col.,  which  were  shipped  to  Chick,  Brown  &  Co. 
by  B.  A.  Feineman,  of  Kansas  City. 

I  traced  the  serial  numbers  in  question  through  the  books  of  Feineman 
to  the  distillery  of  Edward  Sheehan  &  Son,  and  the  rectifying  house  of  S. 
Adler  &  Co.,  of  St.  Joseph,  and  followed  the  dumping  notices  (Form  122} 
into  the  office  of  Collector  C.  B.  Wilkinson,  6th  Dist.  Mo.,  and  find  them 
properly  reported  in  accordance  with  law  and  regulations. 

Collector  Parker  stated  to  me  that  the  causes  which  led  him  to  detain  the 
spirits  in  question  were  the  omission  of  some  portions  of  the  marks  and 
brands  on  the  barrels,  and  a  difference  of  one  or  two  per  cent,  below  proof- 
marks,  or  a  difference  of  one  wine  gallon  to  the  barrel ;  all  of  which  causes 
may  be  explained  by  the  different  mode  of  gauging  by  the  respective  gaug- 
ers  and  the  leakage  and  evaporation  that  will  take  place  in  the  course  of 
time  and  distance  of  transportation. 

In  my  investigation  of  this  matter  I  cannot  find  where  the  Government 
has  been  defrauded  out  of  a  dollar;  and  while  some  of  the  exact  marks 
and  brands  may  have  been  omitted  by  the  gangers  differing  themselves  res- 
pecting the  contents  of  the  casks,  yet  I  have  been  unable  to  trace  any  fraud- 
ulent transactions  by  the  owners  of  the  spirit?. 

Very  respectfully, 
Hon.  J.  W.  DOUGLASS,  (Signed)     JOHN  A.  JOYCE, 

Com'r  Internal  Revenue,  Revenue  Agent. 

Washington,  D.  C. 

After  a  trial  of  three  days,  Judge  Krekel  charged  the  jury  in 
the  following  language  and  logic  : 

The  first  three  counts  of  the  indictment  charge  the  same  offense,  the  hav- 
ing knowledge  or  information  of  a  violation  of  the  revenue  law,  and  failing 
to  report  such  knowledge  or  information  to  his  superior  officer,  as  required 
by  law.  They  differ  in  this,  that  the  first  count  charges  the  violation  to  have 
been  by  Feineman  &  Co.,  by  not  making  the  entries  in  their  books  as  re- 
quired by  law;  the  second  count,  that  Feineman  &  Co.  emptied  packages 


254  A  CHECKERED  LIFE. 

without  canceling  and  obliterating  stamps,  as  required  by  law;  and  the 
third  count,  that  Sheehan  &  Son  distilled  spirits  with  intent  to  defraud  the 
United  States  of  the  tax.  By  the  setting  out  of  the  specific  knowledge  or 
information,  it  is  intended  to  advise  the  defendant  with  what  he  is  charged, 
and  in  your  passing  upon  either  of  the  three  counts,  you  should  find  that 
the  defendant  had  the  knowledge  or  information  of  the  offenses  specifically 
set  out.  You  should  pass  upon  each  of  these  counts,  and  find  whether  the 
defendant,  Joyce,  had  knowledge  or  information  thereof  and  failed  to  report 
in  writing  to  his  superior  ofikers.  You  will  find  upon  each  count,  guilty  or 
not  guilty,  as  in  your  opinion  the  evidence  may  justify. 

The  fourth  count  of  the  indictment  charges  that  defendant  Joyce  con- 
spired and  colluded  with  Edward  Sheehan  to  distill  or  sell  spirits  to  defraud 
the  United  States  of  the  tax.  By  conspiring  is  here  meant  an  understanding 
between  Joyce  and  Sheehan  that  they  would  aid  and  assist  each  other  in 
the  distilling  and  selling  of  spirits  without  paying  the  tax.  The  existence 
of  such  a  conspiracy  you  must  find  from  the  evidence.  Whether  you  will 
find  such  a  conspiracy  to  have  existed  unless  some  act  in  furtherance  thereof 
was  done,  is  for  you  to  determine. 

About  four  o'clock  on  the  afternoon  of  October  23d,  1875, 
the  jury  after  an  absence  of  over  four  hours,  brought  in  a  ver- 
dict of  guilty  on  the  four  counts  in  the  indictment.  It  was 
Saturday,  and  they  wished  to  get  home  to  their  friends  and 
families  in  the  country.  Mr.  Cox,  of  the  jury,  had  a  sick  wife ; 
Mr.  Fullilove  had  a  cramp  in  his  stomach ;  Mr.  Leith  wanted 
to  hold  out  for  innocence  to  the  last ;  but  in  order  to  secure  a 
verdict,  he  finally  consented  to  toss  up  coppers  with  Mr.  John- 
son— heads  they  win,  tails  I  lose.  The  toss  of  the  copper  set- 
tled my  case,  and  these  "  good  and  true  men"  brought  me  in 
guilty  of  conspiracy  with  Edward  Sheehan,  with  whom  not 
a  single  overt  act  was  proven,  but  on  the  contrary,  his  own  son 
said  that  they  had  ceased  illicit  distilling  before  I  visited  their 
establishment,  and  that  when  I  examined  the  books,  the  fifty 
cent  thief,  Rendleman,  said,  "Sheehan  was  very  much  excited 
at  my  presence."  Is  it  reasonable  that  one  conspirator  should 
be  "excited"  at  the  presence  of  another? 

In  the  days  of  Blackstone  and  the  common  law,  if  a  jury 
should  secure  a  verdict  by  chance,  in  casting  lots  or  tossing  up 
a  penny,  the  whole  thing  would  have  been  pronounced  null  and 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE.  255 

void.  But  in  the  days  of  political  ambition  and  public  clamor, 
with  pliant  people  for  jurymen,  acknowledged  thieves  for  wit- 
nesses and  a  severe  man  for  judge,  the  Lord  himself  would  have 
stood  no  chance  for  acquittal,  but  suffered  conviction  and  cru- 
cifixion as  of  old. 

The  prosecuting  officers  now  felt  sure  that  this  "coon" 
would  come  down  from  his  lofty  oak  and  crawl  in  the  dust  for 
immunity  from  punishment. 

My  lawyer  made  a  motion  for  a  new  trial,  pending  the  de- 
termination of  the  court. 

I  was  given  over  to  the  custody  of  the  marshal,  but  the  gov- 
ernment officers  were  so  rampant  that  in  a  few  days  the  judge, 
who  kept  one  eye  on  the  law  and  the  other  on  the  newspapers, 
ordered  me  to  jail,  although  I  was  under  bonds  for  twenty-five 
thousand  dollars.  Everybody  who  knew  me  felt  that  I  would 
not  run  away  to  satisfy  the  prosecution,  if  a  million  dollars  in 
gold  were  offered  me  as  an  inducement. 

I  remained  in  jail  until  the  i3th  of  November,  without  the 
judge  giving  a  single  indication  of  granting  me  a  new  trial. 
Punishment  without  sentence  was  being  inflicted  from  day  to 
day,  with  no  surety  that  months  might  not  march  into  years, 
and  death  from  exposure  ensue  before  I  began  to  move  through 
the  dark  tunnel  of  regular  imprisonment. 

Letters,  telegrams  and  officers  moved  about  from  Washing- 
ton to  St.  Louis  and  Jefferson  City,  all  looking  to  the  spring 
trials  to  come  off  at  St.  Louis,  against  McKee,  Avery,  and  par- 
ticularly General  Babcock. 

The  government  imagined  that  I  was  the  club  to  smash  Bab- 
cock,  and  they  would  simply  hold  me  in  jail  as  a  prospective 
witness,  and  when  the  time  came  launch  me  into  St.  Louis. 

The  district  attorneys  at  St.  Louis  and  at  Jefferson  City,  and 
other  officers,  had  long  and  secret  consultations  as  to  how  they 
could  best  use  me  in  the  interest  of  the  prosecution. 

I  was  secretly  advised  by  "a  little  bird"  of  everything  that 
the  cabal  did,  and  just  as  Dyer  had  fixed  his  legal  papers  to 
transfer  me  to  the  "  Future  Great,"  I  had  my  attorney,  Major 


25 6  A  CHECKERED  LIFE. 

A..  M.  Lay,  go  into  court  and  demand  an  immediate  sentence 
upon  the  indictment  on  which  I  was  convicted. 

A  thunder-clap  from  a  clear  sky  could  not  have  been  more 
surprising  than  this  unusual  action  of  mine.  The  district  at- 
torney and  judges  were  nonplussed,  but  could  not,  in  decency 
or  law,  decline  my  invitation  for  sentence  on  the  withdrawal 
of  the  motion  for  a  new  trial. 

The  following  letter  from  my  lawyers  had  its  proper  weight 
in  determining  my  action  in  demanding  sentence  : 

St.  Louis,  Nov.  nth,  1875. 
Col.  JOHN  A.  JOYCE, 

Dear  Sir :  It  is  manifest  that  Judge  Krekel  will  suspend  action  upon 
your  motion  for  a  new  trial,  so  as  to  enable  him  to  order  your  removal  for 
trial  to  this  district.  Here  the  indications  are  all  one  way — that  you  are  to 
be  brought  here  if  possible.  We  write  understandingly. 

There  can  be  but  one  opinion  as  to  the  proper  course  for  you  to  pursue. 
Your  motion  for  a  new  trial  ought  to  be  withdrawn,  and  sentence  imposed. 
This  action  becomes  inevitable  in  view  of  the  settled  purpose  to  overwhelm 
you.  If  you  withdraw  your  motion  and  demand  your  sentence,  then  you 
will  be  in  a  proper  position  to  resist  all  efforts  to  subject  you  to  unnecessary 
trials  and  more  persecution.  It  does  seem  to  us  that  you  have  only  one 
course  to  pursue.  If  you  resolutely  withdraw  your  motion  and  demand 
sentence,  you  will  stand  better  before  the  country. 

We  advise  this  course  candidly,  earnestly,  and  as  we  conceive  for  your 
own  best  interest.  If  you  conclude  to  take  this  course,  we  earnestly  advise 
you  to  make  no  speech  before  the  Court,  but  simply  to  take  whatever  sen- 
tence may  be  imposed  resolutely  and  manfully,  as  you  have  met  everything 
thus  far.  The  assurances  and  indications  of  clemency  from  Washington 
are  clear  and  favorable.  You  must  do  nothing  to  prejudice  yourself.  But 
if  you  do  come  here  notwithstanding  the  withdrawal  of  your  motion,  then 
the  sympathies  of  the  people  will  be  with  you  as  a  victim  of  mere  persecu- 
tion; your  prosecution  would  be  unjust.  The  matter  is  in  your  own  hands. 
Very  truly,  JEFF.  CHANDLER. 

KRUM  &  MADILL 

When  I  found  what  the  officials  wanted,  I  concluded  to  act 
the  other  way. 

On  the  1 3th  of  November,  I  was  taken  to  the  court-house  for 
sentence.  It  became  noised  about  Jefferson  City  that  I  was 
going  to  make  a  speech  in  my  own  defense.  The  court-house 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE.  257 

was  full  of  curious  listeners,  a  jury  was  sitting  in  the  box,  the 
judge  came  on  the  bench,  and  all  was  quiet  and  solemn  as  the 

grave. 

When  the  preliminary  speeches  of  the  lawyers  were  finished, 
Judge  Krekel  asked  me  if  I  had  anything  to  say  before  sentence 
was  passed.  I  arose  with  a  defiant  attitude,  and  delivered  the 
following : 

"Before  this  honorable  court  passes  sentence,  I  beg  leave  to 
state  that  my  conviction  was  secured  by  the  perjured  testimony 
of  self-convicted  thieves — Feineman,  the  rectifier,  Borngesser, 
the  guager,  and  Rendleman,  the  storekeeper,  all  lineal  descend- 
ants of  those  ancient  scoundrels  who  crucified  Christ,  came 
upon  the  witness  stand,  and  paraded  their  own  infamy  by  ac- 
knowledging that  they  had  stolen  whiskey  from  the  govern- 
ment, through  a  term  of  years  at  the  rate  of  from  one  dollar  to 
fifty  cents  per  barrel.  The  pencil  of  Gustave  Dore  could  not 
do  justice  to  those  three  wandering  Israelites,  who  seemed  ever 
on  the  lookout  to  steal  small  things  when  big  ones  were  conven- 
iently at  hand.  Feineman  and  Fagin  are  identical  characters, 
and  should  be  immortalized  in  living  infamy.  I  dismiss  these 
pillars  of  fraud  and  perjury,  consigning  them  to  the  devouring 
fury  of  a  rotten  conscience. 

I  was  indicted  for  failure  to  report  in  writing  certain  alleged 
knowledge  and  information  of  certain  fraudulent  transactions 
of  petrified  perjurers.  The  jury  found  me  guilty  on  the  counts, 
but  as  a  matter  of  fact  the  conclusion  was  as  false  as  the  evi- 
dence. I  agree  that  it  had  the  appearance  to  the  jury  of  fail- 
ure of  duty.  We  know,  however,  thac  things  are  hot  always 
what  they  seem.  I  simply  declare,  upon  my  honor  as  a  man 
and  my  allegiance  as  an  American  citizen,  here,  in  tne  presence 
of  this  honorable  Court,  to  the  whole  world,  and  facing  my 
God,  that  I  am  absolutely  innocent  of  the  charges  trumped  up 
against  me  by  pretended  friends  and  viper  enemies. 

It  has  not  been  shown  in  evidence,  or  even  intimated 'by 
anybody,  that  I  ever  received  a  single  cent  in  fraud  of  the  rev- 


25 8  A  CHECKERED  LIFE. 

enue.  Then  where  is  the  motive  that  induced  me  to  withhold 
the  information  ?  I  did  make  a  report  in  writing  to  the  Super- 
visor and  Commissioner  Douglass.  The  report,  it  is  alleged,  was 
not  full.  Neither  was  the  information  in  my  possession  full  or 
complete,  as  the  facts  were  in  Colorado,  out  of  my  district,  and 
the  theory  I  reported  was  in  Missouri. 

The  district  attorney  of  the  United  States,  in  his  concluding 
speech,  introduced  my  copy-book,  showing  the  transmittal  let- 
ter to  the  supervisor  as  something  fraudulent.  My  lawyers  or 
myself  had  no  opportunity  to  explain  the  letter  in  evidence, 
which  could  have  been  done  to  the  utmost  satisfaction  of  every- 
body concerned. 

Your  Honor,  from  the  beginning  of  the  case  to  the  end,  ex- 
tended consideration  and  ordinary  rulings.  For  this  I  thank  you 
in  the  name  of  the  people  and  in  the  name  of  justice.  I  stand 
here  to-day  strong  and  bold  in  conscious  innocence.  My  heart 
is  actuated  by  that  noble  impulse  that  nerved  Winkelried  when 
he  opened  a  breach  for  the  liberty  of  his  country ;  or  by  that 
lofty  courage  that  inspired  Sir  Walter  Raleigh  at  the  block ! 
Like  Raleigh  I  may  have  puffed  smoke  through  the  window  at 
the  execution  of  some  official  Essex ;  but  I  never  trampled  upon 
the  royal  robes  of  the  virgin  queen  ! 

For  myself  I  have  no  fear  of  any  punishment  on  earth,  yet 
in  behalf  of  my  past  good  character,  this  being  the  first  suspi- 
ciorTof  guilt  that  ever  darkened  my  life,  and  in  consideration 
of  the  support  I  owe  my  wife  and  children,  I  ask  that  magna- 
nimity at  this  bar  of  justice  that  would  be  reasonably  claimed 
by  yourself  under  like  circumstances. 

A  few  short  years  will  sepulchre  the  living  of  to-day  with  the 
dead  of  yesterday,  and  the  celestial  sunlight  of  to-morrow  will 
bring  us  all  to  the  bar  of  Omnipotence,  where  the  judge,  jury, 
lawyer  and  client  will  meet  upon  the  level  of  eternity  and  part 
upon  the  square  of  final  judgment.  Then  all  hearts  shall  be 
laid  bare,  and  truth  will  rise  in  magnificent  triumph.  The 
blood  of  innocence  flows  free  and  unruffled  through  the  chan- 
nels of  this  frame,  and  the  artificial  terrors  that  surround  the 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE. 


259 


victims  of  crime,  find  no  lodgment  in  my  heart.  When  I  look 
back  to  the  field  of  battle  where  I  fought  and  bled  for  my 
country  in  its  hour  of  terrible  trial,  I  wonder  whether  patriot- 
ism is  but  a  name,  and  gratitude  of  nations  a  mockery  and 
sham  to  lure  the  brave  to  destruction. 

My  simple  sin  is  that  of  omission,  and  for  it  I  suffer  the 
deepest  humiliation,  while  all  the  glorious  services  and  recol- 
lections of  the  past  are  buried  in  the  grave  of  forget  fulness. 
Is  this  right  ?  Is  this  just  ? 

This  epidemical  era  of  reform  has  arisen  like  the  rush  of  a 
mighty  flood,  and  speeds  on  toward  the  gulf  of  punishment. 
The  good  and  the  bad  suffer  alike.  The  stream  is  full  of  drift- 
wood and  dead  timber,  while  many  young  oaks  and  tall  syca- 
mores on  the  banks  are  loosed  from  their  firm  foundation  and 
dashed  into  the  river  of  destruction.  But  the  rain  falls  lightly 
on  the  mountains,  the  sun  shines  warmly  on  the  plains,  and  the 
flood,  even  now,  is  settling  into  its  former  bed,  where  the  crys- 
tal waters  shall  again  reflect  the  green  foliage  of  the  oak  and 
sycamore,  and  the  gentle  breeze  and  the  birds  of  spring  shall 
make  merry  music  in  the  cathedral  aisles  of  generous  nature  ! 

The  prison  walls  that  hemmed  in  Galileo,  Columbus,  Tasso 
and  Napoleon  did  not  measure  the  minds  of  the  men.  It  is 
true  their  bodies  suffered  some  torture,  but  the  proud  spirit 
that  rose  in  their  hearts  leaped  the  bounds  of  clay,  and  soared 
away  into  the  illimitable  region  of  science,  poetry  and  war, 
making  them  monarchs  of  the  hour,  and  masters  of  eternity  ! 
Humble  as  I  am  in  the  walks  of  life  my  soul  is  inspired  by 
their  illustrious  example  ;  and  it  shall  be  my  future  endeavor 
to  show  the  world  that  although  I  may  suffer  for  a  time  the 
penalty  of  perjured  testimony,  yet  like  a  mountain  crag  I  shall 
breast  the  pelting  storm,  and  lift  my  head  clear  and  bold  to 
the  coming  sunshine  of  truth  and  redemption  !  I  have  done." 

Judge  Krekel  immediately  pronounced  upon  me  a  sentence 
of  six  months  imprisonment  on  the  first  count,  six  on  the  sec- 
ond, and  six  on  the  third;  and  on  the  fourth  count,  for  cor.- 


26o  A  CHECKERED  LIFE. 

spiracy,  which  he  intimated  was  not  proven,  imposed  the  term 
of  two  years,  making  in  all  a  sentence  of  three  years  and  a  half, 
in  addition  to  a  fine  of  $2,000.  And  to  add  insult  to  injury, 
the  judge  who  imposed  this  cumulative,  illegal  sentence  on 
one  indictment,  made  out  the  commitment  so  that  the  long 
term,  on  the  fourth  and  last  count,  would  begin  first. 

But  what  cared  the  political  conspirators  for  personal  liberty, 
so  they  stopped  with  the  hare  and  ran  with  the  hounds  of  pub- 
lic clamor.  Montezuma  had  placed  another  Aztec  on  the  sac- 
rificial block  to  glut  the  thirst  for  blood  ;  and  as  I  was  the  first 
immolated,  the  death-dance  -and  glee  of  the  conspirators  were 
unbounded. 

The  prosecution  of  Col.  A.  C.  Dawes  and  Major  John  L. 
Bittenger,  of  St.  Joseph,  Missouri,  was  a  cruel  commentary  on 
justice.  The  former  was  a  railroad  man,  and  had  no  more  to 
do  with  gauger  Bittenger  in  whiskey  matters  than  an  unborn 
<  hild.  If.Dawes  ever  sinned,  it  was  through  his  generosity,  and 
if  Bittenger  ever  fell  into  fraud,  I  never  knew  it. 

The  sleuth  hounds  of  the  law  about  St.  Joseph  were  not  sat- 
isfied with  smirching  the  good  name  of  officers,  but,  for  no  rea- 
son in  the  world,  drew  in  the  name  of  Major  H.  R.  Hartwig, 
an  enlightened  German,  and  others.  The  officers  also  made 
some  cruel  insinuations  against  Col.  G.  H.  Koch,  a  prominent 
banker  of  St.  Joseph,  who  happened  to  sign  the  bonds  of  cer- 
tain officers  and  citizens  as  a  personal  accommodation.  The 
cradle,  the  home,  the  street  and  the  grave  were  searched  by 
ravenous  officials  to  secure  a  conviction  at  all  hazard.  Yet, 
where  are  the  strikers  of  Bristow  to-day  ?  Dispersed  and  forgot- 
ten for  their  subservient,  heartless  ingratitude  and  cowardice. 

IMPRISONMENT. 

Just  as  the  sun  was  sinking  behind  the  western  hills  and 
gilding  the  Missouri  River  with  his  golden  beams,  on  the  even- 
ing of  November  i5th,  1875,  I  passed  the  portals  of  the  pris- 
on and  shut  out  the  wolves  and  jackalls  that  had  pursued  me 
for  many  months.  A  feeling  of  quiet  and  relief  pervaded  my 
heart  when  this  goal  of  misfortune  closed  its  portals  upon  me. 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE.  2fa 

I  felt  exhausted,  as  I  had  often  felt  after  a  day  of  battle  and 
blood,  and  that  bleak  November  night,  with  a  quiet  conscience, 
I  slept  soundly  upon  the  floor  of  a  stone  cell.  It  was  certain- 
ly a  new  experience  to  a  sane  man,  and  a  strange  situation,  to 
one  who  knew  himself  to  be  innocent,  the  victim  of  a  political 
conspiracy  more  cruel  than  any  whiskey  men  could  establish. 

But  my  mind  had  long  been  made  up  to  the  very  worst  dose 
the  government  could  administer,  and  I  was  prepared  to  take 
a  bumper  of  gall  or  quaff  the  hemlock  with  the  stoical  inde- 
pendence of  Socrates. 

The  officers  of  the  prison  treated  me  with  the  greatest  kind- 
ness and  consideration.  They  had  heard  of  me  in  Missouri  for 
many  years  as  a  liberal  citizen  to  those  who  were  under  the 
political  harrow ;  they  knew  me  as  a  man  of  education,  and  be- 
lieved me  to  be  the  victim  of  a  political  persecution. 

I  desired  to  do  something  in  the  prison  to  relieve  the  mo- 
notony of  the  lingering  hours,  and  requested  work.  There 
were  more  than  thirteen  hundred  prisoners  in  the  institution. 

The  "Old  Hall"  contained  about  six  hundred  prisoners, 
three  tiers  of  cells  rising  to  the  roof  and  terminating  against 
the  rough  stone  walls  that  shut  out  the  world.  A  state  guard 
had  charge  of  this  building,  whose  business  it  was  to  release 
the  prisoners  each  morning  for  breakfast  and  work,  and  in  the 
evening  to  count  them  in  two  by  two,  and  lock  them  up  for 
the  night.  Capt.  W.  H.  Bradbury  was  the  executive  officer 
of  the  prison.  He  had  been  connected  with  it  about  thirty 
years,  and  was  a  terror  to  evil-doers ;  but  to  those  who  per- 
formed their  duty  silently  and  uncomplainingly,  he  was  ever 
considerate  and  friendly.  He  asked  me  if  I  wished  to  take 
charge  of  the  "Old  Hall  "  as  a  confidential  man  for  the  state, 
saying  it  would  save  fifty  dollars  a  month.  I  took  the  keys, 
and  superintended  the  exit  and  entrance  of  prisoners  morning 
and  evening  for  more  than  a  year.  When  my  five  turnkeys 
locked  and  bolted  the  cells,  I  in  turn  locked  them  up,  took 
the  keys  to  the  round-house,  and  then  went  to  my  own  room 
in  the  hospital  outside  the  walls. 


262  A  CHECKERED  LIFE. 

My  room  was  large  and  comfortable,  and  was  never  locked. 
Two  windows  looked  out  on  the  waters  of  the  Missouri,  and 
two  others  overlooked  the  house-tops  of  Jefferson  City,  with 
the  dome  of  the  capitol  and  the  hills  beyond  looming  up  like 
sentinels  guarding  the  state.  My  snug  quarters  were  carpeted, 
and  on  a  corner  table  I  had  a  collection  of  writing  material 
and  books  to  amuse  myself  with  in  lonely  hours. 

The  measured  tread  of  the  guard,  as  he  paced  his  lonely 
rounds,  sounded  dull  and  solemn  in  the  silent  night ;  and  when 
the  storms  of  winter  and  the  howling  winds  of  March  shrieked 
about  the  high  walls  and  lookout  towers,  a  shiver  of  nameless 
dread  shot  across  my  soul  and  awoke  in  my  heart  messengers 
of  mournful  memories. 

Often  have  I  read  the  long,  long  night  through,  with  Bacon, 
Montaigne,  Shakspeare,  Horace,  Plato,  Dickens,  Goldsmith, 
Junius  and  Irving  for  my  companions ;  and  when  the  cool, 
gray  shadows  of  morning  crept  over  the  eastern  hills,  I  would 
still  be  pondering  upon  the  beauty  of  thought  and  wisdom  of 
these  authors,  who  brought  me  the  sweetest  consolation  in  the 
gloomy  hours  of  imprisonment. 

When  all  was  as  silent  as  the  grave,  and  I  imagined  every- 
body was  at  rest  but  the  sentinel,  Capt.  Bradbury,  with  his 
severe  face  and  tall  form,  would  sometimes  enter  my  room 
to  bid  me  good  night.  "Ah,  writing  more  poetry,  are  you?" 
would  be  his  salutation. 

I  replied,  that  I  was  far  away  from  his  control,  communing 
with  my  wife  and  children,  and  as  the  spiritual  part  of  man 
could  not  be  bound  or  confined  by  courts  or  prisons,  he  would 
permit  me  to  muse  away  into  the  realms  of  fancy. 

The  Captain  often  sat  with  me  by  the  hour,  and  seemed  ever 
interested  in  my  conversation.  In  my  presence  his  stern  look 
melted  into  kindness,  and  his  iron  hand  held  out  the  olive 
branch  of  generosity  and  love.  Wardens  Sebree,  Willis  and 
Bradbury  were  my  friends,  and  never  lost  an  opportunity  to 
make  my  situation  as  pleasant  as  the  strict  rules  would  permit. 
From  the  time  I  entered  the  halls  of  punishment  to  the  mo- 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE.  263 

ment  of  my  retirement,  there  was  not  a  word  said  nor  an  act 
performed  that  grated  upon  my  sensibilities  as  a  man. 

Travelers  from  state  and  nation  visited  the  prison  almost 
daily;  and  as  I  had  been  an  object  of  national  notoriety,  the 
people  were  curious  to  see  a  man  who  defied  judge,  jury  and 
government.  Many  came  from  motives  of  genuine  sympathy, 
and  even  when  tourists  and  strangers  rushed  to  see  and  talk 
with  me,  I  never  denied  them  the  opportunity. 

I  have  never,  up  to  the  present  moment,  realized  that  I 
served  a  single  day  in  prison,  and  the  whole  affair  seems  to 
me  now  like  the  phantasmagoria  of  a  vanished  dream,  leaving 
no  remembrance  behind  but  the  audacity  of  a  soul  that  the 
rude  blasts  of  the  world  could  not  humiliate  or  subdue. 

My  oration  before  the  court  was  copied  and  commented  upon 
by  all  the  prominent  papers  in  the  United  States,  and  while 
some  of  them  rebuked  me  for  unheard-of  boldness,  the  large 
majority  wondered  at  my  audacity  and  complimented  my  elo- 
quence under  the  trying  ordeal  of  sentence. 

From  a  large  number  of  complimentary  editorial  comments, 
I  submit  the  following  leader  from  the  Daily  Inter-  Ocean, 
of  Chicago  : 

WHISKEY  AND  RHETORIC. 

That  the  wind  is  tempered  to  the  shorn  lamb  and  the  burden  fitted  to  the 
back  which  is  designed  to  carry  it,  are  again  demonstrated  by  the  circum- 
stances attending  the  recent  sentence  of  ex-Revenue  Agent  Joyce  at  Jefferson 
City,  Mo.,  for  complicity  in  whiskey  frauds.  It  is  evident  that  Joyce  rather 
enjoyed  the  proceeding.  It  gave  him  a  chance  for  a  stunning  speech,  which 
he  never  could  have  made  otherwise,  and  presented  an  opportunity  to  hand 
down  his  name  beside  the  names  of  Sir  Walter  Raleigh,  Galileo,  Napoleon 
and  others,  which  he  embraced  with  an  exultation  peculiar  to  that  heroic 
class  with  whom  he  thus  became  identified.  For  certainly  that  speech  of 
Joyce's  was  no  ordinary  effort.  It  was  not  the  disconnected,  disjointed,  in- 
elegant harangue  of  your  vulgar  criminal.  It  is  plain  that  Joyce  has  be- 
come familiar  with  noble  lives  and  grand  examples.  Sentimentally,  too,  he 
agreed  with  them,  but  when  it  came  to  practical  test,  Joyce  was  wanting. 
He  put  his  virtue  all  into  theory,  and  hadn't  enough  left  to  practice  with. 
And  yet,  as  we  said,  he  rather  seemed  to  enjoy  his  sentence,  because  of  the 
opportunity  it  gave  him  to  make  a  very  remarkable  speech. 


264  A  CHECKERED  LIFE. 

We  do  not  know  that  his  remarks  were  impromptu ;  it  is  rather  probable, 
indeed,  that  they  were  not;  that  they  were  carefully  thought  over  and  pre- 
pared purposely  for  effect.  Still,  that  does  not  alter  the  fact  that  the  speech 
was  a  singularly  able  one  in  spite  of  its  rather  grandiloquent  tone.  For 
there  are  times  when  grandiloquence  is  not  altogether  inappropriate,  and 
however  carelessly  the  public  were  disposed  to  regard  the  proceedings  of 
the  court  at  Jefferson  City,  to  the  prisoner  it  was  a  time  of  great  solemnity 
and  great  trial,  when  figures,  metaphors  and  comparisons  which  would  not 
have  been  allowable  otherwise  were  pardonable. 

Mr.  Joyce's  opening  denunciation  of  the  witnesses  against  him  reminds 
us  of  Daniel  O'ConnelPs  allusion  to  Disraeli,  whom  he  described  as  "a  lin- 
eal descendant  and  heir-at-law  to  the  impenitent  thief  who  died  on  the 
cross."  Joyce  evidently  had  this  paragraph  in  his  mind  when  he  referrec 
to  "Feineman,  the  rectifier;  Bonngeisser,  the  gauger,  and  Rendleman,  the 
storekeeper,"  as  all  "lineal  descendants  of  those  ancient  scoundrels  who 
crucified  Christ."  Said  Mr.  Joyce: 

"The  pencil  of  Gustave  Dore'  could  not  do  justice  to  those  three  wan- 
dering Israelites,  who  seemed  ever  on  the  lookout  to  steal  small  things  when 
large  ones  were  conveniently  at  hand.  Feineman  and  Fagin  are  identical 
characters,  and  should  be  immortalized  in  living  infamy.  I  dismiss  the  ped- 
dlers of  fraud  and  perjury,  consigning  them  to  the  devouring  fires  of  a  rot- 
ten conscience." 

Mr.  Joyce  compared  himself  to  Arnold  Winkelreid  and  Sir  Walter  Ral- 
eigh in  the  following  very  neat  sentence,  which,  when  disassociated  from 
the  charge  against  him,  that  makes  such  comparisons  a  trifle  ridiculous,  is 
very  good  indeed : 

"  I  stand  here  to-day  strong  and  bold,  conscious  of  innocence.  My  heart 
is  actuated  by  the  noble  impulse  that  nerved  Winkelreid  when  he  opened  a 
breach  for  the  liberty  of  his  country,  or  by  the  lofty  courage  that  inspired 
Sir  Walter  Raleigh  at  the  block.  Like  Raleigh,  I  may  have  puffed  smoke 
through  the  window  at  the  execution  of  some  official  Essex,  but  I  never  yet 
trampled  upon  the  royal  robes  of  the  Virgin  Queen." 

The  remainder  of  the  address,  as  we  said  before,  is  rather  remarkable, 
and  shows  the  prisoner  to  be  not  only  a  man  of  education  and  extensive 
reading,  but  one  possessed  of  a  fine  imagination  and  no  mean  rhetorical 
powers.  His  speech  was  a  solemn  and  reiterated  denial  of  his  guilt,  and 
the  expression  of  an  abiding  confidence  in  the  final  vindication  of  his  good 
name. 

If  the  charges  are  well  founded,  Mr.  Joyce  has  one  talent  superior  to  his 
eloquence,  and  that  is  his  unexampled  impudence.  Whatever  may  be  the 
truth  about  his  guilt,  however,  it  is  certain  that  the  Missouri  state's  prison 
contains  a  scholar  and  an  orator  such  as  its  gloomy  walls  have  seldom,  if 
ever,  held  before. 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE.  265 

I  received  a  large  number  of  letters  from  friends  and  strang- 
ers immediately  after  my  incarceration,  all  of  them  breathing 
a  spirit  of  sympathy  and  encouragement.  My  lady  friends 
were  particularly  kind  in  their  expressions  of  regard  and  love, 
saying  that  no  matter  what  the  world  thought,  they  were  of 
the  decided  belief  that  I  was  a  persecuted  man,  and  put  forth 
as  a  vicarious  sacrifice  for  the  sins  of  other  people. 

One  of  the  most  consoling  letters  I  received  was  the  follow- 
ing, from.  Col.  J.  C.  Normile,  District  Attorney  of  the  county 
of  St.  Louis — a  man  who  knew  me  intimately  in  days  of  sun- 
shine, and  believed  in  me  during  the  storms  of  misfortune : 

St.  Louis,  Jan'y  1301,  1876. 
DEAR  JOYCE: 

I  received  your  welcome  letter  of  the  ist  inst.,  and  would  have  writ- 
ten an  earlier  reply  but  for  the  combined  result  of  much  work  and  constitu- 
tional laziness  in  the  matter  of  letter-writing.  I  have  nightly  resolved  to 
write,  and  as  often  suspended  my  resolution  until  the  following  night. 

The  Supreme  Court,  the  Court  of  Appeals,  the  Criminal  Court  and  the 
Grand  Jury  are  all  in  session  since  Jan.  3d,  and  having  to  distribute  myself 
among  them  all,  you  will  readily  see  that  I  have  little  time  at  present  for 
concentration  sufficient  even  to  write  to  an  old  friend  like  yourself. 

The  crowd  of  the  Southern  Hotel  often  speak  of  you  with  pleasant  rec- 
ollections of  the  past,  and  with  regret  for  your  present  condition.  No  one 
can  sing  "  Mrs.  Kearney"  like  you,  they  say,  and  it  is  also  asserted  that 
nobody  can  enliven  an  evening  of  innocent  revelry  like  that  mad  wag  Joyce. 
I  hear  this  said  frequently  by  those  who  knew  you  in  better  days,  when  even 
a  shadow  of  suspicion  had  not  tarnished  the  luster  of  your  integrity. 

That  one  so  genial,  gifted,  generous  and  warm-hearted  as  you  should  be 
found  among  the  Ring,  was  truly  painful  to  those  cherished  friends,  who 
were  the  last  to  believe  it,  and  the  first  to  defend  your  fair  name  whenever 
assailed. 

The  papers  keep  you  posted  on  passing  events,  and  they  also  keep  us  ac- 
quainted with  your  business.  I  see  you  are  engaged  in  writing  a  novel  and 
a  drama  on  whiskey-ring  troubles.  You  are  imprudent  in  keeping  your 
mind  hot  by  dwelling  so  much  on  these  subjects.  To  forget  them,  should 
be  your  aim.  I  would  suggest  to  you  to  perfect  yourself  in  Latin  while  in 
prison.  You  have  a  good  opportunity  to  become  a  fine  classical  scholar. 
It  will  be  pleasant  reading,  and  in  dwelling  on  the  deeds  of  antiquity  your 
mind  will  unbend  itself  from  the  terrible  strain  that  has  been  upon  it,  and 
which  has  broken  minds  as  vigorous  as  yours.  Write  as  little  as  possible, 


266 


A   CHECKERED 


and  publish  nothing.  Think  on  new  subjects,  and  cultivate  your  brilliant 
intellect  in  the  calm  seclusion  of  your  prison,  and  you  will  win  a  victory 
from  defeat. 

There  has  been  some  talk  of  removing  all  those  who  were  convicted  here 
to  some  other  place  of  confinement,  where  they  may  have  to  do  disagreeable 
labor.  Keeping  quiet  at  present,  and  until  that  has  blown  over,  is  your 
best  plan.  I  don't  know  how  soon  business  may  take  me  to  Jefferson  City, 
but  when  it  does,  I  will  be  sure  to  call  and  see  you  personally,  and  read 
poetry  with  you  for  an  afternoon. 

I  have  your  speech  on  receiving  sentence  laid  away  between  the  leaves 
of  your  decoration-day  oration,  where  I  will  show  it  to  you  when  you  are 
liberated.  You  ask  if  I  have  forgotten  those  halcyon  days  of  yore.  I  have 
not,  and  never  shall.  For  no  man  living  had  I  as  warm  an  attachment  as  for 
you  in  your  better  days.  A  friendship,  indeed,  more  disinterested  has  sel- 
dom existed  between  men.  I  well  remember  the  Joyce  of  those  happy 
days,  and  in  charity  I  will  draw  a  veil  over  those  scenes,  which  I  know  you 
will  one  day  wipe  out  and  restore  yourself  to  the  confidence  of  friends  that 
have  mourned  your  trouble.  Your  sincere  friend, 

J.  C.  NORMILE. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

PRISON    REFORM. 

During  my  sojourn  in  prison,  I  studied  closely  the  philosophy 
of  confinement  and  punishment,  looking  into  the  details  of 
each  representative  case  with  the  eye  of  a  man  who  wishes  to 
separate  the  false  from  the  true,  the  good  from  the  bad.  I  saw 
the  children  of  hereditary  crime,  and  the  gnarled,  crusty  crimi- 
nals of  poverty  and  education  come  and  go  like  shadows  on  a 
dial.  It  was  a  school  of  the  ripest  knowledge  to  one  of  a 
thoughtful  nature,  and  I  made  a  memorandum  of  various  cases, 
in  order  that  I  might  some  day  give  my  experience  and  con- 
clusions to  the  world. 

See  John  Anderson,  a  poor,  pale  boy  of  sixteen,  come  through 
the  "round  gate"  with  a  swing,  launched  into  the  prison -yard 
like  a  tired  bird  that  had  been  shot  in  the  wing  in  a  summer 
flight.  He  stole  a  pair  of  shoes  to  keep  his  feet  warm,  and  ran 
into  a  baker's  shop  for  a  loaf  of  bread  to  appease  his  hunger. 
The  policemen  nabbed  him,  the  jury  indicted  and  convicted 
him,  and  the  district  attorney  and  judge  sent  him  to  prison  for 
a  term  of  two  years  with  hard  labor.  After  being  shaved, 
bathed,  and  a  description  of  his  person  taken,  he  was  assigned 
to  a  cell  with  a  burglar  of  unenviable  age  and  notoriety.  The 
contractors  in  the  shoe-shop  had  him  detailed  to  hammer 
on  heels  for  two  years,  until  he  is  finally  discharged  with  a  poor 
suit  of  clothes,  and  barely  enough  money  to  take  him  to  the 
nearest  city,  where  he  enters  the  ranks  of  burglars  and  midnight 
robbers,  to  put  in  practice  what  he  learned  of  the  old  reprobate 
with  whom  he  celled. 

There  is  Billy  Rider,  a  ward  politician,  who  made  himself 
serviceable  in  the  past  to  Democratic  and  Republican  leaders, 

267 


268  A  CHECKERED  LIFE. 

by  packing  caucuses  with  his  rough  following.  He  is  an  im- 
pulsive, human  wreck,  dangerous  in  midnight  saloons,  and  al- 
ways ready  with  a  knife  to  "cut  the  heart"  out  of  any  supposed 
enemy.  He  is  serving  a  term  of  two  years  for  an  assault  upon 
the  life  of  his  fellow-man,  and  takes  his  confinement  with  the 
nervous  discontent  of  a  caged  tiger.  Had  Billy  been  reared 
under  happier  skies  he  might  have  been  a  good  citizen,  for  his 
worst  enemy  acknowledged  that  there  was  something  generous 
and  good  beneath  his  rough,  impulsive  exterior. 

Look  at  Old  Jerry  Collins  coming  across  the  prison  yard, 
bare  headed  and  in  his  shirt  sleeves,  winter  and  summer,  offer- 
ing his  ever-present  snuff-box  to  any  friend,  and  exchanging 
words  of  kindness  with  the  officers.  He  murdered  his  wife  in 
St.  Louis  with  a  meat-ax  for  some  imagined  infidelity  on  her 
part ;  was  tried  and  sentenced  to  be  hung  ;  but,  as  the  governor 
had  doubts  as  to  the  sanity  of  the  old,  gray  wreck,  commuted 
his  sentence  to  imprisonment  for  life.  Jerry  was  never  satis- 
fied with  his  commutation,  but  made  periodical  applications 
to  have  the  original  sentence  of  death  carried  into  effect,  say- 
ing that  if  he  knowingly  murdered  his  wife,  he  deserved  death, 
and  if  the  act  was  that  of  an  insane  man,  be  should  not  be  in 
prison,  but  in  the  wards  of  a  lunatic  asylum.  The  old  fellow 
had  a  great  deal  of  common  sense.  He  took  a  great  fancy  to  me 
when  he  found  that  I  wrote  poetry  and  loved  flowers.  The 
officers,  to  satisfy  his  whims,  procured  for  him  flower  seeds,  and 
allowed  him  a  little  spot  of  ten  by  twelve  to  cultivate  his  fa- 
vorite friends.  It  was  a  strange  sight  to  see  a  wife-murderer 
bending  lovingly  over  budding  roses,  daisies,  violets,  morning- 
glories,  and  forget-me-nots  in  the  sunny  hours  of  spring,  nurs- 
ing them  with  a  father's  care  in  hot  summer  days,  and  covering 
them  up  with  newspapers  when  the  frosts  of  fall  chilled  their 
life. 

There  comes  Jack  Reno  ahead  of  the  long  line  with  the  lock 
step.  He  moves  to  the  measured  tread  of  twenty  years  con- 
finement for  cracking  open  a  county  safe,  and  taking  forty 
thousand  dollars  in  bonds. 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE,  269 

The  robbery  was  planned  with  the  precision  a  general  plans 
and  executes  campaigns.  Jack  came  all  the  way  from  Indiana 
on  the  information  of  a  "pal,"  and  when  the  country  town  was 
wrapped  in  slumber  after  midnight,  while  his  confederate  held 
the  string  on  the  outside,  to  warn  him  against  approaching  foot- 
steps, the  bold  burglar  with  his  cunning  implements  cracked 
the  treasury  safe,  and  stole  the  bonds.  Then  a  race  was  made 
for  the  banks  of  the  Mississippi,  but  fate  and  sleep  induced  the 
robbers  to  stop  on  the  wayside  too  long  ;  and  Jack  was  cap- 
tured without  the  "boodle,"  tried,  convicted  and  sent  to  prison 
to  contemplate  upon  the  uncertain  to  of  human  success.  Jack 
had  some  elements  of  redeeming  virtue.  He  regarded  it  worse 
than  high  treason  or  murder  to  betray  a  friend,  and  however 
his  moral  nature  may  have  been  bespotted  by  a  family  of  natural 
Indian  robbers,  he  possessed  a  kind  heart  for  his  fellow-prison- 
ers, and  would  share  the  last  crust  with  a  cell-mate.  It  was 
curious  and  astonishing  to  hear  him  tell  of  wonderful  escapes 
and  daring  exploits,  boasting  of  his  robbery  of  persons  and 
banks  with  the  proud  air  of  a  man  who  had  performed  some 
noble  action,  and  deemed  himself  worthy  of  commendation. 
Pope  must  have  had  Jack  Reno  in  his  mind  when  he  said : 
"  Vice  is  a  monster  of  so  frightful  mien, 
As,  to  be  hated,  needs  but  to  be  seen  ; 
Yet  seen  too  oft,  familiar  with  her  face, 
We  first  endure,  then  pity,  then  embrace  !" 

There  is  Fred  Biebush,  one  of  the  most  daring  counterfeiters 
in  the  United  States,  and  a  wholesale  shover  of  the  "queer." 
For  thirty  years  he  has  been  meat  for  detectives,  policemen, 
courts  and  prison  officers,  eluding  their  grasp  on  many  an  oc- 
casion, but  serving  three  or  four  terms  in  prison.  He  is  a 
stalwart,  nervous,  rickety-hitchity  man  with,  all  the  secret  cun- 
ning of  his  class,  the  economy  of  his  Teutonic  race,  but  the 
victim  of  his  own  crimes  and  the  betrayal  of  his  "pals."  Had 
common  honesty  inspired  his  heart,  he  might  have  been  one 
of  the  first  citizens  in  the  community,  an  honor  to  his  family 
and  a  prop  to  the  state,  for  certainly  his  shrewd  intellect  is  of 
no  ordinary  character. 


270  A  CHECKERED  LIFE. 

The  strange  infatuation  of  crime  takes  hold  of  the  heart  and 
understanding  like  a  horrible  nightmare,  and  when  we  attempt 
to  shake  it  off,  pain  comes  with  the  waking,  and  we  relapse 
into  the  arms  of  the  fiend  that  governs  our  soul  with  a  rod  of 
iron.  This  is  especially  the  case  with  counterfeiters.  Once  a 
counterfeiter,  always  one. 

See  Dutch  Charlie  coming  through  the  "round  gate"  for  the 
ninth  term  of  imprisonment,  with  a  step  as  light  and  happy  as 
when  he  departed  a  few  months  ago.     Thirty  years  in  prison 
for  petty  theft  has  made  the  old  man  a  natural  boarder  of  the 
establishment,  and  the  officers  say  he  departs  every  two  or  four 
years  with  sadness,  and  returns  with  a  smile  upon  his  familiar 
face.     There  is  no  joy  in  the  outside  world  for  a  lone  creature 
from  the  Fatherland,  and  when   he  wanders  back  through  the 
crooked  vista  of  memory  to  his  mountain  cot  amid  the  streams 
and  hills  of  the  Rhine,  his  heart  sinks  within  him,  and  he  de- 
liberately commits  some  minor  offence,    pleads  guilty,  and 
rushes  with  pleasure  to  the  comforting  walls  of  his  prison  home. 
Dutch  Charlie  could  well  exclaim  with  the  Prisoner  of  Chillon  : 
"  My  very  chains  and  I  grew  friends, 
So  much  a  long  communion  tends 
To  make  us  what  we  are ; — even  I 
Regained  my  freedom  with  a  sigh  !" 

Charlie  Weston  was  the  loneliest  character  I  ever  met.  His 
father  and  mother  died  when  he  was  very  young.  A  baby  sis- 
ter and  himself  were  the  only  ones  left  of  a  large  family.  Kind 
neighbors  took  up  the  orphans,  and  bound  them  to  an  old 
childless  farmer  in  one  of  the  central  counties  of  Missouri. 
The  children  grew  apace. 

One  cold  November  day,  the  passionate,  crusty  farmer  at- 
tempted to  flog  the  eighteen-year-old  boy  with  a  blacksnake 
whip.  Human  nature,  in  self-defense,  leaped  into  the  strug- 
gle, and  with  one  blow  of  a  chance  club  the  farmer  was  felled 
to  the  earth,  and  died  almost  instantly.  Charlie  was  terribly 
alarmed,  went  to  the  house,  told  what  had  occurred,  and  was  ar- 
rested for  murder. 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE.  27I 

The  trial  came  off  in  due  season,  with  no  one  to  give  a  smile 
or  a  cheering  word  to  the  orphan  boy  but  his  sixteen-year-old 
sister.  The  jury  found  him  guilty  of  murder,  and  condemned 
him  to  be  hung,  but  a  merciful  governor  commuted  the  sen- 
tence to  life  imprisonment. 

A  few  days  after  the  boy's  entrance  into  gloomy  prison  walls, 
he  heard  that  his  little  sister  had  died  of  a  broken  heart.  The 
last  link  of  earthly  love  had  been  thus  severed,  and  his  best 
friend  had  gone  into  the  shadows  of  eternity.  Like  Jean  Val 
Jean,  his  heart-strings  of  love  and  home  were  snapped  asunder, 
and  whether  a  fugitive  among  the  homes  of  the  opulent  or  a 
prison  worker  at  the  oar  of  a  galley  slave,  the  future  bore  no 
flowers  of  hope,  and  the  cruel  world  possessed  no  charms  to 
soothe  his  sinking  soul. 

Charlie  was  nearly  six  feet  tall,  handsome  and  manly,  with 
blue  eyes  and  blonde  hair.  He  was  duly  assigned  a  cell,  put 
to  work  in  one  of  the  shops,  furnished  a  copy  of  the  prison 
rules,  and  there  is  no  record  that  he  ever  violated  one. 

Days  and  months  ripened  into  years,  and  still  the  dead  level 
of  prison  monotony  went  on.  Spring  came  with  its  birds  and 
flowers ;  summer  shone  with  its  ripened  grain ;  autumn  with 
its  purple  fruit  and  golden  foliage,  and  winter  with  its  chilling 
blasts  and  drifting  snows  came  to  pivot  up  the  long,  long  year. 

Daily  and  nightly  Charlie  came  and  went  to  his  silent  cell 
from  constant  labor,  without  a  word  of  encouragement  or  hope 
to  brace  up  his  mournful  moments.  He  saw  other  prisoners 
get  letters  of  love  and  consolation  from  absent  friends,  and  re- 
ceive daily  calls  to  cheer  their  solemn  hours,  but  for  the  term 
of  twelve  years  he  never  got  a  letter,  or  saw  a  mortal  who  cared 
whether  he  lived  or  died  ! 

The  Bible  was  his  constant  companion,  and  out  of  its  rich 
promises  he  hoped  for  peace  and  forgiveness.  He  was  dead  to 
the  world,  and  might  as  well  be  resting  in  the  gloomy  grave. 
Daily  and  nightly  he  prayed  for  relief. 

At  last  the  prison  officers  took  notice  of  his  orderly,  faithful, 
honest  work  and  good  behavior.  Warden  Willis,  with  his 


272  A  CHECKERED  Z //</•.. 

generous  heart,  and  Captain  Bradbury,  with  his  iron  justice, 
brought  the  case  of  Charlie  to  the  notice  of  the  prison  board, 
and  to  Lieutenant  Governor  Brockmeyer,  who  granted  pardon 
on  the  4th  of  July,  1877.  The  pardon  was  communicated  to 
Charlie  and  all  the  prisoners  on  our  national  holiday,  and 
was  the  gift  of  a  generous  executive  to  the  merit  of  a  man  who 
had  been  voted  by  the  prisoners  as  an  exemplary  and  deserv- 
ing candidate  for  executive  clemency. 

An  innocent  man,  unconscious  of  premeditated  wrong,  with 
no  malice  aforethought,  was  thus  released  after  a  silent  and  sol- 
emn imprisonment  of  twelve  weary  years.  I  saw  the  stalwart 
man  of  thirty  when  he  received  notice  of  pardon,  and  he  gazed 
into  vacancy  as  one  in  a  dream,  not  believing  that  any  human 
being  had  ever  taken  interest  enough  in  a  friendless  man  to  pro- 
cure him  a  pardon.  Like  an  oak  struck  by  a  withering  blast,  he 
broke  down,  threw  himself  on  his  bench  at  the  table,  and  cried 
like  a  child  that  had  been  locked  up  in  a  closet  by  his  mother, 
and  forgiven  with  a  kiss. 

When  Weston  passed  through  the  "  round  gate,"  and  emerg- 
ed into  liberty,  I  saw  him  look  back,  heave  a  long-drawn  sigh, 
and  vanish  with  tears  coursing  down  his  pale  cheeks ;  and  as 
he  walked  out  again  into  the  rushing  world  a  free  man,  I  could 
not  help  thinking  how  sad  and  lonely  was  his  lot. 

"  Lone  as  a  solitary  cloud, 
Lone  as  a  corpse  within  a  shroud." 

Century  after  century  has  wheeled  away  into  nameless  ob- 
livion, and  yet  the  world  has  not  advanced  much  in  the  care 
and  reformation  of  its  criminal  classes.  The  handcuffs,  the 
stocks,  the  thumbscrews,  the  rack,  starvation,  the  dungeon 
chains  and  the  lash  are  still  in  existence,  but  no  real  reform  in 
the  prisoner  seems  to  be  attempted  or  attained.  Ignorance, 
poverty  and  intemperance  are  the  fruitful  parents  of  crime  ; 
and  until  a  cure  for  these  inherited  and  acquired  evils  is  found, 
no  good  to  the  convict  can  come  of  the  present  system  of  pun- 
ishment and  pretence  of  reformation. 


.-/   CHECKERED  LIFE. 


273 


After  a  careful  study  of  the  whole  subject,  looking  into  the 
details  of  prison  life,  and  sounding  the  springs  of  human  na- 
ture, I  have  come  to  the  conclusion  that  the  state  should  have 
entire  control  of  its  unruly  and  unfortunate  children,  and  put 
forth  an  honest  effort  to  reclaim  its  prodigal  sons  and  daugh 
ters,  and  throw  out  every  inducement  to  make  them  lead 
peaceful  and  honest  lives. 

The  state  does  not  wish  to  make  money  out  of  the  sweat  and 
blood  of  its  unfortunate  children,  like  the  monopoly  contractor 
who  hoards  up  wealth  at  the  expense  of  the  poor  and  friend- 
less convict,  and  turns  him  out  to  beg  or  steal  at  the  expira- 
tion of  his  term.  Why  should  the  state  and  nation  delegate  its 
authority  to  a  few  cormorant  contractors  as  against  all  other 
citizens  ?  Monopoly  is  not  consistent  with  the  genius  of  a 
republic. 

If  each  state  of  this  Union  will  crystallize  the  following  sug- 
gestive bill  into  positive  law,  society  will  enter  upon  anew  era, 
and  instead  of  the  convict  being  turned  out  poor  and  desperate 
to  prey  again  upon  society,  he  will  retire  from  his  first  punish- 
ment with  a  good  amount  of  money  to  his  credit,  and  above 
all  have  a  practical  trade,  by  which  he  may  gain  support  by 
honest  labor.  The  prisoner  must  know  that  obedience  is  his 
first  duty,  and  the  keeper  or  warden  his  best  friend.  The  of- 
ficers must  be  strict,  but  perfectly  just. 

A  BILL  for  the  Labor,  Better  Care,  and  Reformation  of  Prisoners. 
^e  it  enacted,  etc. 

SEC.  i.  The  office  of  General  Superintendent  of  Prisons  is 
hereby  created,  whose  salary  shall  be  five  thousand  dollars  per 
annum  and  reasonable  traveling  expenses. 

SEC.  2.  Convict  labor  by  contract  is  hereby  forever  abol- 
ished, and  the  system  shall  no  longer  exist.  Hereafter  the 
state  shall  take  active  control  of  the  discipline  and  labor  of 
prisoners. 

SEC.  3.  It  shall  be  the  duty  of  the  Superintendent  of  Pris- 
ons to  purchase  all  raw  material,  and  he  shall  sell  the  manu- 
factured products  of  prison  labor,  turning  the  proceeds  thereof 
into  the  care  of  the  State  Treasurer. 

18 


274  A  CHECKERED  LIFE. 

SEC.  4.  The  Superintendent  shall  see  that  a  full  and  com- 
plete set  of  books  is  kept,  giving  the  detail  of  every  purchase 
and  sale  transaction ;  and  at  the  end  of  each  fiscal  year  he 
shall  make  a  full  report  to  the  Executive  of  the  State,  who 
shall  transmit  the  same  to  the  House  and  Senate  with  his  an- 
nual message. 

SEC.  5.  The  Superintendent  shall  have  his  office  at  the  Cap- 
ital, and  be  empowered  to  hire  such  clerks  and  agents  as  he 
needs  for  the  execution  of  his  duties. 

SEC.  6.  In  all  the  state  prisons  of  the  Commonwealth  there 
shall  be  taught  in  detail  to  every  able-bodied  prisoner  one  of 
the  following  trades,  during  his  or  her  term  of  imprisonment : 
Shoe-making,  tailoring,  blacksmithing,  stone-cutting,  wooden 
and  willow-ware,  tinning,  saddle  and  harness-making  and  box- 
making  of  all  kinds. 

SEC.  7.  With  the  commitment  of  each  prisoner  the  clerk  of 
the  court  shall  transmit  to  the  warden  a  statement  of  the  total 
expense  of  arrest  and  trial  of  each  convict,  to  be  charged  against 
the  prisoner  on  the  books  of  the  warden's  office. 

SEC.  8.  Each  convict  shall  be  assigned  a  separate  cell,  and 
from  the  time  he  enters  prison  until  he  is  released  shall  not  be 
allowed  to  write  or  speak  to  any  one  without  the  permission  of 
the  officers. 

SEC.  9.  There  shall  be  erected  in  connection  with  each  pris- 
on a  large  fire-proof  store  and  warehouse,  where  the  raw  and 
manufactured  material  shall  be  placed,  until  the  same  is  prop- 
erly distributed  and  disposed  of  by  the  agent  of  the  state. 

SEC.  10.  An  expert,  intelligent  tradesman  or  tradeswoman 
shall  be  placed  at  the  head  of  each  of  the  ten  trades  mentioned 
herein,  who  shall  receive  eighteen  hundred  dollars  per  annum 
for  instructing  the  convicts  in  the  full  details  of  each  trade. 

SEC.  1 1 .  The  warden  shall  assign  each  convict  to  any  of 
these  trades  that  is  best  suited  to  the  strength,  capacity  and  in- 
genuity of  the  individual. 

SEC.  12.  A  daily,  weekly,  monthly  and  yearly  cash  account 
shall  be  kept  with 'each  prisoner,  who  shall  first  pay  from  tin- 
proceeds  of  his  labor  the  expense  of  trial,  and  forty  cents  a  day 
for  his  clothing,  victuals  and  housing  during  his  term  of  im- 
prisonment. The  actual  cost  to  the  state  of  the  raw  material 
and  its  transportation  shall  also  be  deducted.  All  over  these 
amounts  arising  from  the  sale  and  profit  of  the  manufactured 
goods  shall  be  credited  to  the  prisoner  upon  the  books  of  the 
warden  and  general  superintendent  of  prisoners,  and  be  paid  to 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE. 


275 


the  convict  by  the  treasurer  of  the  state,  on  the  certification  of 
the  warden  and  superintendent,  when  the  prisoner  is  released 
from  confinement  and  punishment.  In  case  of  death,  the 
money  placed  to  the  credit  of  the  prisoner  shall  be  paid  to  his 
legal  representative,  or  to  whom  he  wills  it,  by  the  State 
Treasurer. 

SEC.  13.  The  superintendent  shall  not  sell  the  manufactured 
goods  for  a  price  below  those  of  like  character  in  the  commer- 
cial world,  and  shall  be  very  careful  not  to  unnecessarily  com- 
pete with  honest  labor. 

SEC.  14.  The  superintendent  shall  see  to  it  that  from  high 
noon  of  every  Saturday,  until  seven  o'clock  the  following  Mon- 
day, no  work  is  done  in  the  prison  shops. 

SEC.  15.  A  secular  school  shall  be  kept  in  the  prison  every 
Saturday  afternoon  for  the  period  of  four  hours,  where  reading, 
writing,  arithmetic  and  history  shall  be  taught  by  teachers,  cit- 
izens or  competent  prisoners,  who  shall  receive  therefor  fifteen 
dollars  per  month  from  the  state. 

SEC.  1 6.  After  breakfast  each  Sunday  there  shall  be  held 
Bible  classes,  spelling  matches  and  Divine  Worship  where  each 
prisoner  shall  attend  two  hours,  unless  excused  by  the  doctor 
or  warden. 

SEC.  17.  The  Board  of  Inspection,  shall  furnish  at  state  ex- 
pense, one  thousand  or  more  good  books  for  the  prison  library, 
and  each  convict  shall  have  the  privilege  to  subscribe  for  one 
good,  daily  newspaper,  periodical  or  magazine,  to  be  given  to 
him  through  the  warden's  office. 

SEC.  1 8.  The  superintendent  and  warden  shall  see  to  it  that 
when  a  convict  begins  to  learn  a  trade,  he  shall  continue  at  it 
until  he  has  mastered  all  its  details,  and  be  competent  on  his 
release  to  work  as  a  journeymen. 

SEC.  19.  The  only  punishment  that  shall  be  allowed  in  the 
prison  for  violation  of  rules,  is  solitary  confinement  in  a  well- 
lighted  cell,  with  one  pound  of  bread,  every  other  day,  at 
noon,  with  a  quart  of  water.  This  fare  shall  be  kept  up  until 
the  prisoner  submits,  or  until  the  warden  is  satisfied  with  the 
amount  of  punishment,  under  final  supervision  of  the  prison 
physician. 

SEC.  20.  The  governor,  attorney  general  and  treasurer  shall 
constitute  a  Board  of  Inspection,  and  control  and  make  such 
rules  and  regulations  for  the  guidance  of  superintendent,  war- 
den, foreman,  guards  and  prisoners  as  they  may  deem  wise  and 
prudent  in  the  enforcement  of  this  act, 


276  A  CHECKERED  LIFE. 

SEC.  21.  One  hundred  thousand  dollars  is  hereby  appropri- 
ated, out  of  any  money  in  the  Treasury  not  otherwise  appro- 
priated, for  the  beginning  and  enforcement  of  the  provisions  of 
this  act.  ^  % 

In  the  spring  and  summer  of  1876,  the  alleged  whiskey  con- 
spirators of  St.  Louis  were  put  on  trial  before  Treat  and  Dil- 
lon, United  States  judges. 

The  cases  of  the  Supervisor ;  William  McKee,  editor  and 
proprietor  of  the  Globe- Democrat',  Con  Maguire,  Collector  of 
Internal  Revenue;  William  O.  Avery,  Chief  Clerk  of  the 
United  States  Treasury  Department,  and  General  O.  E.  Bab- 
cock,  private  and  official  secretary  of  President  Grant,  were  the 
most  prominent;  the  government  leaving  no  otone  unturned 
to  convict  and  imprison  these  men. 

A  number  of  deputy  collectors,  gangers,  storekeepers,  distill- 
ers and  rectifiers,  were  also  indicted,  and  held  over  the  head^ 
of  the  prominent  characters  as  state  witnesses.  These  weak 
mortals  were  plastered  all  over  with  indictments. 

Subordinates  were  ready  and  willing  to  swear  to  anything 
suggested  by  the  district  attorney,  and  as  they  all  had  promises 
of  immunity  from  punishment,  they  were  daily  drilled  in  their 
role  of  perjury  ! 

It  was  laughable,  if  not  serious,  to  see  the  little  human  May- 
flies buzzing  against  the  window-panes  of  official  power,  hunt- 
ing for  a  hole  to  crawl  out  and  escape  the  frosty  expectations 
of  tight  stone  walls.  But  God  had  fashioned  them  in  a  crook- 
ed mould,  with  trembling  hearts,  and  they  could  not  help  beg- 
ging like  spaniels  before  the  rod  of  official  tyranny. 

The  Supervisor  was  tried,  convicted  and  sent  to  state  prison. 

Mr.  Avery,  the  Chief  Clerk  of  the  Treasury  Department,  was 
forced  to  trial  before  his  lawyers  could  prepare  for  his  defense. 
He  was  convicted,  and  literally  railroaded  to  prison,  an  inno- 
cent man.  so  far  as  I  knew.  It  was  the  most  cruel  thing  com- 
mitted by  Bristow  in  his  raid  for  the  presidency. 

Con.  Maguire  was  forced  into  pleading  guilty  on  a  promise 
of  a  light  sentence,  and  as  he  was  a  poor  man  without  money, 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE.  277 

determined  to  take  the  seif-convicted  course,  and  get  out  of 
trouble  as  soon  as  possible. 

William  McKee,  proprietor  of  the  Globe  -  Democrat,  was  a 
particular  object  of  Bristow's  wrath,  because  the  editor  did  not 
advocate  his  presidential  expectations.  I  believed  McKee  to 
be  a  thoroughly  honest  man,  and  while  he  managed  his  news- 
paper to  make  money,  he  would  not  stoop  to  steal  or  defraud. 

Bristow  and  his  officers  now  put  forth  their  greatest  effort  to 
convict  General  Babcock,  and  rummaged  every  nook  and  cor- 
ner of  the  country  for  evidence  to  ruin  the  President's  secreta- 
ry, and  even  went  so  far  as  to  attempt  to  chip  into  the  outlines 
of  Grant  himself.  Nothing  was  too  desperate  for  them  to  un- 
dertake in  their  effort  to  sully  the  name  of  our  greatest  General, 
or  bring  scandal  on  the  White  House. 

Detectives,  spotters  and  thieves  followed  the  footsteps  of 
Babcock,  his  lawyers  and  friends,  wherever  they  turned,  and 
even  the  private  precincts  of  home  and  trunks  were  searched 
in  the  vain  effort  to  find  personal  letters  that  might  be  tortured 
into  evidence  of  whiskey  frauds. 

One  of  Bristow's  hired  henchmen  followed  my  wife  and 
baby  from  Ripon,  Wis.,  to  St.  Louis  and  Jefferson  City,  gaz- 
ing secretly  at  a  tin  box  that  he  imagined  contained  the  desir- 
ed letters  that  had  passed  between  Babcock  and  myself.  The 
nurse  frequently  carried  the  box  under  her  shawl,  and  wherever 
they  went,  either  herself  or  my  wife  clung  to  the  precious  arti- 
cle with  unabated  vigilance.  Dyer  and  Botsford  were  sure  they 
were  on  the  right  track  for  the  terrible  letters  that  Babcock 
had  written  me  in  furtherance  of  some  wonderful  conspiracy ; 
and  these  two  district  attorneys  having  positive  information 
from  the  shrewd  Washington  detective,  determined  to  pounce 
down  on  the  tin  box  and  trunks. 

In  due  course  Botsford  sued  out  a  search-warrant  in  the 
name  of  the  United  States,  and  "the  balance  of  mankind;" 
and  while  my  wife  was  visiting  me,  the  detective  and  district 
attorney  dashed  fearlessly  down  on  the  old  nurse,  the  trunks, 
the  balmorals  and  the  baby,  and  with  heroic  valor  captured  and 


278  A  CHECKERED  LIFE. 

instantly  opened  the  long-sought  box,  containing  a  spirit  lamp, 
a  can  of  condensed  milk,  a  sugar-teat  and  a  sucking-bottle  ! 

When  all  else  failed  Dyer,  he  stumbled  on  a  fellow  named 
Everest,  who  had  formerly  been  a  third-class  clerk  in  a  second- 
class  shoe-shop,  and  had  been  made  gauger  and  plastered  with 
indictments  for  stealing  whiskey  at  the  distilleries  of  Bevis  & 
Frasier  and  the  establishment  of  Mr.  Ulrici.  When  he  was  first 
indicted  he  ran  off  to  Canada  and  Europe.  Then  the  services 
of  one  McFall,  a  gauger,  who  had  been  indicted  and  was  be- 
ing coached  by  Pat  Dyer,  came  into  play.  John  had  been  in- 
terested with  Dyer  when  the  latter  was  in  Congress,  in  procur- 
ing claims ;  and,  of  course,  they  knew  each  other  as  pure  and 
unsullied  patriots.  McFall  proposed  to  get  Everest  back,  and 
have  him  swear  to  anything  in  the  great  and  good  cause  of 
railroading  Babcock  into  the  penitentiary.  John  and  Everest 
met  in  New  York  after  the  latter  came  from  Rome,  where  he 
had  been  doing  pilgrimage  at  the  shrine  of  St.  Peter.  When 
the  usual  promises  of  immunity  were  understood,  the  gauger 
was  ready  to  go  on  the  witness  stand,  and  swear  to  anything 
that  might  save  himself  from  prison. 

Everest  did  take  the  witness  stand,  and  swore  that  on  a  cer- 
tain day  he  saw  me  place  a  five  hundred  dollar  bill  in  a  large 
envelope,  seal  it  up  and  direct  it  to  General  Babcock,  and  mail 
it  at  a  street-corner  postal-box.  This  was  a  direct  way  to  bring 
money  to  Babcock,  and  'convince  the  jury  that  he  knew  of  the 
alleged  conspiracy.  The  cross-examination  rather  knocked 
the  bottom  out  of  Everest's  testimony. 

But,  in  order  that  the  government  should  not  monopolize 
all  the  perjury,  Emory  Storrs,  of  Chicago,  and  Judge  Porter, 
of  New  York,  put  up  a  job  to  get  that  five-hundred-dollar  en- 
velope out  of  the  street  box.  At  the  Lindell  Hotel,  where 
these  "Greenleaf  "  guerillas  were  wont  to  congregate,  some  one 
suggested  that  Filley,  the  postmaster,  could  fix  up  one  of  his 
carriers  to  swear  that  I  stood  around  the  letter-box  until  the 
carrier  came  on  his  collection  tour,  and  took  out  the  letter  al- 
leged to  have  been  mailed.  Filley  was  equal  to  the  emergen- 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE.  279 

cy.  lie  had  a  pliant  letter-carrier  named  Magill,  who  did  not 
belong  to  the  mail  route  of  my  office.  It  took  but  a  short  time 
for  the  legal  tricksters  to  coach  the  carrier,  who  went  on  the  wit- 
ness-stand, and  swore  that  I  asked  him  to  take  out  an  envelope 
from  a  postal-box  on  Pine  street,  and  that  he  delivered  it  to 
me. 

The  cross-examination  by  Dyer  twisted  Magill  up  even  worse 
than  Everest  had  been  twisted.  Jury,  judges  and  lawyers  be- 
lieved that  the  carrier  had  perjured  himself. 

I  simply  say,  on  my  honor  as  a  man,  and  as  I  hope  for  peace 
beyond  the  grave,  that  the  testimony  of  Everest  and  Magill 
was  an  absolute  lie,  manufactured  out  of  whole  cloth,  web  and 
woof,  by  the  prosecution  and  defense  in  aid  of  their  respective 
causes.  But  what  cared  these  people  for  me  or  my  reputation, 
so  they  convicted  or  acquitted  their  man  over  my  shoulders. 
I  was  laid  down  over  the  stream  of  misfortune  like  a  pontoon 
bridge  in  war  times,  over  which  infantry,  cavalry  and  artillery 
passed  to  victory  or  defeat. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

THE    SYLPH  DISPATCH. 

The  case  of  the  government  against  Babcock  was  breaking 
down  very  fast,  but  as  a  last  spike  the  celebrated  "Sylph"  dis- 
patch, in  Babcock' s  hand  writing,  was  introduced  as  evidence 
of  his  guilt. 

The  dispatch  to  the  supervisor  read  as  follows : 

Washington,  D.  C.,  December  ij,  1874. 

I  have  succeeded.      They  will  not  go.      I  will  write  you. 

Sylph. 

The  goverment  attempted  to  show  that  this  collusive  tele- 
gram was  an  overt  act  of  Babcock  in  furtherance  of  the  con- 
spiracy, advising  the  St.  Louis  officers  that  he  had  succeeded 
in  preventing  detectives  from  going  out  to  Missouri  to  make 
investigation,  and  that  he  would  write  more  fully  in  regard  to 
his  action. 

The  defense  endeavored  to  show  that  the  dispatch  was  an  in- 
nocent one,  and  did  not  refer  to  any  frauds  on  the  revenue. 

The  testimony  was  finally  closed,  the  lawyers  made  long- 
winded  speeches,  Judge  Dillon  weighed  the  evidence,  and  in- 
structed the  jury  that  Babcock  had  not  committed  any  overt 
act  of  conspiracy,  thus  virtually  ordering  them  to  acquit.  They 
retired  to  their  rooms,  and  under  the  instructions  of  Dillon 
had  nothing  else  to  do  but  to  bring  in  a  verdict  of  not  guilty. 

Judge  Dillon  saw  the  political  animus  of  the  prosecution 
and  the  weakness  of  the  case,  and  was  the  very  man  to  do  his 
duty  in  defiance  of  public  clamor.  The  case  against  Babcock 
at  St.  Louis  was  far  stronger  than  that  against  me  at  Jefferson 

281 


282  A  CHECKERED  LIFE. 

City ;  but  I  had  a  judge  who  paid  more  attention  to  newspa- 
pers than  to  evidence  or  law,  and  in  his  anxiety  to  listen  to  the 
howl  of  the  rabble  he  actually  imposed  upon  me  a  cumulative 
sentence  that  common  decency  afterwards  compelled  him  to 
set  aside  under  a  writ  of  habeas  corpus. 

During  my  official  career  in  Missouri  and  the  West,  I  was 
personally  and  politically  acquainted  with  General  O.  E.  Bab- 
cock,  the  official  and  private  secretary  of  President  Grant.  I 
met  him  frequently  on  my  trips  to  Washington,  and  when  he 
came  to  St.  Louis  we  conversed  on  general  political  topics. 

General  Babcock  has  been  severely  blamed  for  sending  to 
St.  Louis  the  notorious  "Sylph"  dispatch.  In  our  personal 
and  political  communications  we  made  such  off-hand  signatures 
as  friends  frequently  use  in  transmitting  private  letters  and 
telegrams. 

The  origin  pf  the  "Sylph"  signature  was  this  :  In  the  sum- 
mer of  1874,  I  was  in  Washington  and  at  the  White  House. 
One  evening  after  office  hours  General  Babcock  invited  me -to 
take  a  ride  in  his  carriage.  We  went  over  the  city,  viewing 
objects  of  interest,  and  finally  drew  up  at  the  granite  base  of 
the  Scott  statue,  on  i6th  street  and  Massachusetts  A. venue. 
While  examining  the  great  stone,  which  had  been  brought  from 
the  river  on  rollers,  I  chanced  to  look  up  the  street,  and  saw  a 
very  beautiful  young  lady  dressed  in  fine  style,  walking  erect, 
light  and  airy  as  a  dream.  In  the  off-hand  manner  of  my  florid 
style,  I  called  the  General's  attention  to  the  silken  beauty,  and 
exclaimed  : 

Her  fairy-like  form,  moulded  in  beauty  and  grace, 
Seems  to  float  like  a  sylph  on  the  light  wings  of  space. 

The  General  laughed,  coincided  with  my  enthusiastic  com- 
pliment, and  thought  comparing  the  beauty  to  a  sylph  was  very 
appropriate,  joking  me  a  good  deal  about  my  admiration  for 
the  fair  sex.  The  couplet  of  poetry  took  hold  of  his  mind,  and 
I  repeated  it  to  him  several  times  as  I  saw  he  liked  the  good 
and  beautiful. 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE.  283 

In  subsequent  private  letters  I  often  used  the  word  "sylph" 
in  closing  my  political  communications,  and  he  would  sign  in- 
cidental notes  and  telegrams  with  the  same  poetic  word. 

The  "Sylph"  telegram  came  near  sending  General  Babcock 
to  prison,  and  as  neither  the  courts  nor  any  other  sources  have 
ever  truthfully  explained  it,  I  here  give  for  the  first  time  the 
actual  meaning  of  the  dispatch. 

Parties  from  Kansas  and  Illinois  had  been  in  Washington  for 
some  time  trying  to  oust  the  collector  of  Kansas,  and  super- 
visor of  Illinois.  Politically  speaking,  we  were  very  anxious 
to  retain  these  officers,  because  of  their  power  and  fealty  to  the 
administration.  I  had  written  several  times  to  General  Bab- 
cock  to  assist  in  keeping  the  office-seekers  out  ot  the  old  po- 
litical districts  where  we  could  always  count  on  a  Grant  dele- 
gation to  a  county,  state  or  national  convention.  Through 
the  General's  influence  with  the  political  powers  at  Washington, 
the  office-seeking  patriots  did  "not  go,"  and  Babcock  "suc- 
ceed" in  keeping  old  and  faithful  officers  in  their  places  against 
the  conspiring  influence  of  two  hungry  reformers. 

There  never  was  a  more  innocent  communication,  and  neither 
directly  nor  indirectly  did  it  refer  to  any  frauds  on  the  revenue. 
It  was  a  simple  service  performed  in  the  political  arena  of  ad- 
ministrative business,  and  just  such  work  as  is  performed  every 
day  in  the  week  by  every  executive  officer  in  all  civilized 
countries. 

There  was  no  actual  woman  that  either  the  General  or  my- 
self personally  knew  in  the  remotest  degree  representing  the 
"Sylph,"  save  the  unknown  belle  on  Massachusetts  Avenue, 
who  inspired  my  poetic  exclamation. 

Had  I  been  in  a  position  to  place  my  hands  on  the  letter 
of  which  &fac  simile  is  shown  on  the  following  page,  and  pre- 
sent it  at  the  court,  Gen.  Babcock  would  have  been  acquitted 
in  five  minutes ;  but  at  that  time  I  was  representing  "Uncle 
Sam"  in  his  "Reform"  raid,  and  could  not  spare  an  hour 
from  his  classic  service. 


< 


.-/  CHECKERED  LIFE.  285 

In  all  the  years  that  I  knew  Gen.  Babcock,  we  never  inti- 
mated to  each  other  any  scheme  or  word  touching  any  design 
to  conspire  to  defraud  the  government  of  the  United  States, 
and  I  never  paid  him  a  dollar  to  do  for  me  any  political  ser- 
vice; and,  so  far  as  I  know,  no  one  else  ever  paid  him  a  cent 
in  furtherance  of  the  alleged  whiskey  conspiracy.  His  prose- 
cution by  Bristow  was  a  cruel  thing,  entailing  a  certain  odium 
that  will  last  to  his  grave,  and  imposing  upon  himself  a  cost 
of  forty  thousand  dollars  to  show  his  innocence  and  keep  out 
of  the  penitentiary.  All  this  in  the  interest  of  Reform  ! 

Bristow  played  his  last  trump  in  the  Babcock  case,  and  lost. 
The  effort  to  trace  fraud  to  the  White  House  and  saddle  it  on 
Grant  proved  a  total  failure,  and  the  political  conspirators 
were  desperately  disappointed.  The  drama  of  The  Whiskey 
Conspiracy  had  been  played  to  full  houses,  and  the  audience 
became  restive,  many  going  out  between  the  acts  to  refresh 
their  anxiety  at  the  failure  of  unfulfilled  promises  and  great 
expectations.  The  curtain  was  at  last  rung  down  to  empty 
benches,  the  scene-shifters  departed,  the  actors  stole  away  into 
the  lumber  of  the  green-rooms  and  out  into  the  dark  alley  of 
defeat ;  the  lights  burned  dim  and  blue,  and  all  that  was  left 
was  a  score  of  human  beings  in  prison,  and  the  "property 
man,"  who  held  only  a  few  dilapidated  distilleries  as  the  prof- 
its of  the  whiskey  prosecution. 

Grant  at  last  saw  that  he  had  been  a  victim  of  Bristow' s 
perfidy,  and  with  that  defiant  boldness  which  never  failed  him 
in  the  hour  of  need,  he  began  to  kick  out  of  his  administra- 
tion a  lot  of  impudent  frauds  who  had  brought  scandal,  but  no 
taxes,  to  the  government. 

District  Att'y  Dyer  was  dismissed;  Detective  Yaryan  was 
bounced  ;  Commissioner  Pratt  went  to  short  grass  :  Solicitor 
Bluford  Wilson  was  sent  back  to  the  Sucker  State,  and  Bristow 
himself  was  kicked  out  unceremoniously  after  his  failure  to  get 
the  nomination  for  President,  at  Cincinnati. 

The  prosecution  of  the  so-called  whiskey  conspirators,  from 
the  beginning  to  the  end,  cost  the  government  one  million 


286  A  CHECKERED  LIFE. 

dollars ;  and  in  the  loss  of  taxes  from  idle  distilleries  and 
whiskey  houses,  it  suffered  a  loss  of  two  million  more — making 
in  all  a  three-million-dollar  robbery  from  ihe  vaults  of  the 
treasury  by  a  set  of  official  conspirators  who  acted,  not  for  the 
enforcement  of  the  law,  but  to  promote  their  own  personal 
and  political  ambition. 

After  eight  years,  where  are  the  men  who  made  such  loud 
boasts  in  the  whiskey  prosecutions  ?  Many  of  their  victims 
died  of  poverty  and  broken  hearts  by  the  wayside,  while  they 
are  only  mentioned  as  conspirators  against  an  administration 
that  had  warmed  them  into  life  and  power.  The  chief  objects 
of  Bristow's  wrath  were  Joyce,  Babcock  and  Grant.  I  have 
lived  for  the  past  five  years,  proud,  prosperous  and  patient, 
on  a  hill-top  overlooking  Washington  City  and  the  historic 
waters  of  the  Potomac — respected  by  all  who  know  me  inti- 
mately ;  and  for  the  opinion  of  the  rabble  I  care  no  more  than 
for  a  whiff  of  idle  wind,  because  their  blame  or  censure  is  of 
no  consequence  to  a  man  they  know  not. 

Gen.  Babcock  holds  a  life  place  in  the  engineer  corps  of  the 
United  States  army,  respected  and  loved  by  every  one  whose 
opinion  is  worth  consulting. 

Gen.  Grant's  little  finger  to-day  is  more  potent  with  the 
present  administration  and  the  nation  than  all  the  howling 
reformers  in  America ;  and  when  their  work  and  memory  are 
lost,  and  they  rest  in  forgotten  graves,  he  will  be  remembered, 
and  his  form  will  be  chiseled  in  monumental  glory  as  long  as 
liberty  and  valor  find  a  home  in  our  Great  Republic. 

Bristow,  late  Secretary  of  the  Treasury,  moves  about  New 
York  City  with  the  mark  of  the  deceiver  on  his  brow,  and 
wherever  his  name  is  mentioned,  his  betrayal  of  Grant  rises 
like  Ban  quo 's  ghost. 

'  Thus  the  whirligig  of  time  brings  in  its  revenge." 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

PARDON    AND    OTHER    MATTERS. 

Days,  weeks  and  months  wore  away  the  year  1876,  and 
wheeled  in  the  New  Year  with  its  hopes  and  fears.  President 
Grant  had  pardoned,  in  detail,  all  the  victims  of  Bristow's 
personal  ambition,  and  although  I  was  the  first  in  the  United 
States  to  feel  the  wrath  of  the  government,  I  remained  the 
last  one  to  suffer.  Every  self-convicted  thief  in  Wisconsin, 
Illinois,  Indiana  and  Missouri  was  released  from  punishment 
by  the  courts,  or  by  a  pardon  from  the  President,  while  I,  who 
persistently  asserted  my  innocence,  was  permitted  to  languish 
alone,  even  against  the  loud  protests  of  public  opinion. 

In  the  spring  of  1877,  numerous  letters  of  sympathy  began 
to  pour  in  upon  me,  and  even  the  newspapers  and  officers  that 
hounded  me  into  prison  pronounced  my  continued  incarcera- 
tion an  outrage  on  the  principles  of  equal  justice. 

Wm.  J.  Florence,  the  well-known  actor,  an  old-time  friend, 
said  :  "I  suppose  you  will  soon  be  a  free  man  again.  Among 
the  many  friends  you  have  to  sympathize  with  you,  none  are 
more  sincere  than  Florence.  Keep  the  few  hairs  of  poor  Old 
Abe  Lincoln  I  gave  you,  and  prize  them  as  souvenirs  of  all 
that  was  truly  good  and  noble  in  man." 

Judge  John  M.  Krum,  a  lawyer  and  prominent  citizen  of 
more  than  forty  years'  standing  in  St.  Louis,  said  :  "  And  first, 
I  wish  to  say  that,  although  you  are  at  present  under  a  cloud, 
it  has  not  obscured  you  in  the  least  from  my  recollection,  or 
lessened  you  in  any  respect  from  my  regard  or  estimation. 
•'  What  though  the  field  be  lost,  all  is  not  lost.'  To-day  the 

287 


288  A  CHECKERED  LIFE. 

storm  rages  fiercely,  but  to-morrow  comes  a  peaceful  day,  and 
the  storm  has  wasted  its  power.  And  so,  my  friend,  a  peaceful 
day  will  soon  come  to  you.  Be  of  good  cheer.  Your  friends, 
as  of  yore,  stand  by  you,  and  will  to  the  death." 

Ex-Senator  John  B.  Henderson,  who  was  employed  as  the 
special  Attorney  General  to  aid  Pat.  Dyer  in  the  prosecution 
of  the  St.  Louis  whiskey  cases,  wrote  several  kind  and  friendly 
letters,  from  which  I  make  the  following  extracts  : 

11 1  have  understood  that  every  one  is  out  of  prison  except 
yourself,  and  that  those  who  had  not  been  tried,  and  who  are 
unquestionably  guilty,  have  been  pardoned  before  conviction. 
I  cannot  appreciate  the  reasons  for  your  further  incarceration. 
There  were  various  rumors  here  in  regard  to  the  matter,  one 
of  which  is  to  the  effect  that  certain  parties  demanded  five 
thousand  dollars  from  you  as  a  condition  of  relief,  and  you,  re- 
fusing to  give  it,  was  informed  that  you  could  not  be  pardoned. 
I  can  recommend  your  pardon  on  the  ground  that  you  de- 
serve pardon  equally  as  well  as  those  who  have  been  pardoned. 

Gen.  Henderson  says,  in  a  letter  to  Att'y  General  Devens 
touching  my  pardon  :  "  I  do  not  hesitate  to  place  his  case  as 
one  demanding  only  equal  favor  and  consideration  with  others. 
He  is  no  worse  than  many  others  unconditionally  pardoned ; 
and  when  I  say  no  worse,  I  put  the  case  in  the  mildest  form 
of  expression.  I  think  he  is  a  better  man  than  many  who  have 
received  executive  clemency  in  the  several  districts." 

The  following  exceedingly  strong  pardon  papers  were  pre- 
sented to  the  Att'y  General,  embracing  a  letter  of  recommend- 
ation from  Judge  Krekel,  petitions  from  the  Senate  and  House 
of  the  Missouri  legislature,  and  the  rare  recommendation  of 
the  Supreme  Court  of  the  state ;  also  the  favorable  recom- 
mendation of  five  of  the  jurymen  who  convicted  me  on  the 
23d  of  October,  1875,  an(^  sa*d  m  tneir  paper  only  two  days 
afterward,  that  "  It  does  not  appear  from  the  proof  that  Col. 
"Joyce  ever  received  a  dollar  in  fraud  of  the  revenue  laws." 

District  Attorney  Botsford  also  strongly  recommended  my 
pardon,  as  did  others  whose  letters  I  omit. 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE.  289 

Jefferson  City,  Mo.,  March  21,  1877. 
To  the  PRESIDENT  : 

John  A.  Joyce,  now  confined  in  the  Missouri  State  Peni- 
tentiary, under  sentence  for  violating  his  official  duty  as  Rev- 
enue Agent,  is  petitioning  to  be  pardoned,  and  has  asked  me 
to  favor  his  application.  Heretofore  I  have  refused  to  join 
in  his,  as  in  every  other,  application  for  pardon  in  the  so-called 
whiskey-ring  cases,  for  two  reasons  mainly,  that  I  did  not  deem 
it  best  that  the  administration  under  which  the  violations  oc- 
curred should  pardon  the  offender,  and  again  because  I  desired 
to  see  adequate  punishment  inflicted  on  those  who  had  violated 
not  only  the  law,  but  their  high  trust. 

The  punishments  imposed  by  other  judges  in  similar  cases 

tried  afterwards  were  lighter  than  my  own  in  the  Joyce  case. 

His  conduct  while  confined  has  been  reported  to  me  as  good. 

Considering  all  the  circumstances,  I  recommend  his  pardon. 

Respectfully,  A.  KREKEL. 

His  Excellency,  RUTHERFORD  B.  HAYES, 
President  of  the  United  States. 

We,  the  undersigned,  Senators  of  the  2Qth  General  Assem- 
bly, would  respectfully  submit  to  your  earnest  consideration 
that  John  A.  Joyce,  of  the  city  of  St.  Louis,  is  at  the  present 
time,  and  has  been  for  the  past  sixteen  months,  an  inmate  of 
the  state  prison  of  Missouri,  for  alleged  complicity  in  the  late 
whiskey  conspiracy ;  that  all  the  participants  in  said  conspiracy 
in  Indiana,  Illinois,  Wisconsin  and  Missouri  have  been  relieved 
either  by  the  Courts,  or  by  a  pardon  from  ex-President  Grant ; 
that  Colonel  Joyce  was  the  first  tried  in  the  United  States, 
and  has  suffered  longer  imprisonment  than  any  one  else,  he 
being  the  only  one  still  incarcerated ;  that  his  application  for 
pardon  has  laid  for  months  in  the  Att'y  General's  office  favora- 
bly recommended  by  the  District  Attorney  who  tried  him;  that 
he  has  a  wife  and  two  children  depending  on  him  for  support, 
this  being  the  first  offence  alleged  against  the  aforesaid  prisoner, 
he  having  led  in  the  past  an  honorable  life ;  that  as  an  Amer- 
can  citizen,  he  is  entitled  to  the  same  treatment  accorded  oth- 
ers for  like  offenses,  and  unless  actuated  by  a  desire  for  per- 
sonal vengeance,  a  just  Government  cannot  discriminate  against 
Joyce,  who  still  asserts  his  innocence.. 

It  is  therefore  the  opinion  of  your  petitioners  that  the  prin- 
ciples of  even-handed  justice,  presuming  that  a  wrong  had  been 
committed,  is  now  satisfied;  and  that  every  consideration  of 

19 


290  A  CHECKERED  LIFE. 

truth,  charity,  and  mercy  demands  the  immediate  release  of  the 
prisoner;  and  that  he  may  be  restored  to  his  suffering  family, 
your  petitioners  humbly  pray. 

Henry  C.  Brokmeyer,  Daniel  Able, 

Lieut.  Governor.  Sec'y  Mo.  Senate. 

Jno.  H.  Terry.  Wm.  Q.  Paxton. 

E.  A.  Seay.    '  R.  Ake. 

Waller  Young.  M.  H.  Phalan. 

A.  H.  Benkeholder  James  R.  Claiborne. 

T.  H.  Parrish.  Lee  Wight. 

I.  S.  Parsons.  T.  J.  O.  Morrison. 

George  K.  Biggs,  John  G.  Wear. 

W.  W.  Mosby.  Robt.  G.  Coleman. 

E.  M.  Edwards.  R.  S.  Lukenson. 
S.  S,  Henry.  R.  P.  Wilson. 

G.  T.  Ballingal.  W.  B.  Thompson. 

A  petition  similarly  worded  was  signed  by  members  of  the 
House  of  Representatives,  as  follows  : 

John  I.  Martin.  Wm.  Goff. 

S.  M.  Pickler.  E.  P.  Johnson. 

Geo.  M.  Sutherland.  E.  A.  Donelan. 

Chas.  A.  Pollock.  Theophilus  Williams. 

Robert  A.  Cameron.  Jared  E.  Smith. 

D.  H.  Connaway.  D.  Procten. 

L.  A.  Lambert.  Wm.  Gardner. 

S.  W.  Headen.  Jas  Southard. 

J.  D.  Horn.  T.  E.  Evans. 

Geo.  W.  Rinker.  J.  B.  Brower. 

R.  A.  Campbell.  J.  Casey  Woodside. 

Joseph  A.  Dacus.  De  L.  Miller. 

Sam.  Byrns.  E.  L.  Newsum. 

Geo.  W.  Easley.  Stephen  P.  Turn. 

Ashley  W.  Ewing.  H.  C.  Todd. 

John  J.  O'Neill.  W.  M.  Moore. 

M.  D.  Blakey.  W.  C.  Wells. 

Jacob  A.  Love.  Abram  Dobbs. 

Geo.  R.  King.  P.  C.  Stipp. 

G.  B.  Atterbury.  W.  H.  H.  Russell. 

W.  A.  Love.  E.  Buler. 

F.  M.  Coleman.  Jasper  N.  Burks. 
Charles  L.  Ewing.  William  Harrison. 
John  Ryan.  D.  C.  Gannawoy. 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE.  291 

G.  N.  Nolan.  L.  J.  Dryden. 

T.  A.  Dryden.  J.  L.  Farris. 

H.  J.  Deal.  W.  R.  Wilhite. 

L.  F.   Medley.  R.  W.  Jameson. 

Peyton  G.  Hurt.  J.  S.  Richardson. 

W.  E.  Brown.  John  H.  McHenry. 

STATE  OF  MISSOURI — s.  s. 

I,  Michael  K.  McGrath,  Secretary  of  State,  of  the  State  of 
Missouri,  hereby  certify  that  the  persons  whose  names  are  sub- 
scribed to  the  foregoing  petitions  are  members  of  the  Senate 
and  House  of  Representatives  of  the  General  Assembly  of  the 
State  of  Missouri.      In  Testimony  Whereof,  I  have  hereunto 
set  my  hand  and  affixed  my  seal  of  office.     Done  at  office,  in 
r  — ' — ,  -v     the  city  of  Jefferson,  this  twenty  -  eighth  day  of 
j  Seal.  !•    March,   A.    D.   Eighteen    Hundred    and    Seventy- 
'  — <—*  '    Seven.  MICHAEL  K.  MCGRATH, 

Secretary  of  State. 

To  His  Excellency,  RUTHERFORD  B.  HAYES, 

President  of  the  United  States. 

The  undersigned,  members  of  the  Supreme  Court  of  the 
State  of  Missouri,  respectfully  recommend  the  pardon  of  John 
A.  Joyce,  in  consideration  of  equal  justice. 

Jno.  W.  Henry, 
E.  H.  Norton, 
T.  A.  Sherwood, 
J.  W.  B.  Napton. 

To  His  Excellency,  U.  S.  GRANT, 

President  of  the  United  States, 
Washington,  D.  C. 

The  undersigned,  members  of  the  jury  who  tried  the  case 
of  the  United  States  vs.  John  A.  Joyce,  in  the  District  Court 
of  the  United  States  for  the  Western  District  of  Missouri, 
state  that  the  verdict  of  guilty  on  the  several  counts  in  the 
indictment  was  based  upon  our  belief  that  the  defendant  had 
knowledge  and  information  of  fraud  and  did  not  report  the 
same  to  his  superior  officers. 

It  did  not  appear  from  the  proof  that  Col.  Joyce  ever  received 
a  dollar  in  fraud  of  the  revenue  laws,  and  in  consideration  of 


29 2  A  CHECKERED  LIFE. 

this  fact,  coupled  with  his  past  good  conduct,  we  would  most 
respectfully  recommend  him  to  Executive  clemency. 

James  Cook, 

October  25th,  1875.  Robt.  N.  Leith, 

G.  W.  Oakes, 
Ephraim  Johnson, 
J.  L.  Fullilove. 

The  4th  of  March,  1877,  came  and  went,  and  notwithstand- 
ing the  personal  and  official  recommendations  I  brought  to 
bear,  President  Grant  went  out  of  office  without  giving  me  the 
clemency  he  extended  to  self-convicted  thieves. 

I  have  since  learned,  from  the  best  authority,  that  my  official 
papers  were  held  back  by  Alphonzo  Taft,  Attorney  General, 
and  were  never  presented  to  the  President.  I  will  also  state 
that  a  trio  of  licentious  Washington  blackmailers  did  attempt  to 
make  me  pay  five  thousand  dollars  for  a  pardon.  I  leave  Taft 
and  a  just  government  to  explain  the  cruel  exception  made  in 
my  case. 

For  five  months  after  every  one  else  was  out  of  prison,  I  was 
held  for  no  earthly  reason  imaginable  except  to  satisfy  some 
personal  vengeance  of  the  pardon  brokers,  who  could  net  in- 
timidate, control  or  blackmail  me. 

Time  with  its  ceaseless  tread  brought  around  July,  1877,  and 
as  my  attorney  and  self  felt  that  Judge  Krekel  had  committed 
a  great  wrong  in  giving  me  four  separate  punishments  on  one 
indictment,  determined  to  apply  for  a  writ  of  habeas  corpus 
before  the  same  man  who  imposed  a  cumulative  sentence.  Ac- 
cordingly ex-Governor  Thomas  C.  Fletcher,  my  attorney,  sued 
out  the  proper  writ,  and  brought  me  before  Krekel,  who  made 
some  preliminary  remarks,  and  temporarily  released  me  until 
he  could  consider  all  the  legal  points  involved. 

For  several  weeks  I  remained  at  the  Madison  House  in  a 
state  of  suspended  animation,  waiting  for  the  decision  of  the 
judge. 

Finally,  after  corresponding  with  Judge  John  F.  Dillon,  of 
the  Circuit  Court,  and  scanning  the  daily  papers  with  the  eye 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE. 


293 


of  a  politician,  Arnold  Krekel  "went  back"  on  himself  in  the 
following  language : 

"Ex  parte  John  A.  Joyce  : 

Petitioner  is  before  me  on  a  writ  of  habeas  corpus,  seeking 
to  be  discharged  from  imprisonment  on  judgment  of  this  court 
in  one  of  the  whiskey  cases.  This  indictment  under  which  the 
conviction  is  had  is  drawn  under  the  fourth  and  ninth  subdivis- 
ions of  section  3169  of  the  Revised  Statutes  of  the  United 
States.  The  pleader  saw  cause  to  reverse  the  order  of  the  stat- 
ute, and  in  the  three  first  counts  of  the  indictment,  under  the 
ninth  subdivision  of  the  section  cited,  charges  that  defendant 
Joyce  had  knowledge  of  Feineman  and  of  Sheehan  violating 
the  revenue  law,  and  failing  to  report  such  knowledge  as  re- 
quired. The  fourth  count  charges  that  Joyce  conspired  and 
colluded  with  Sheehan  to  defraud  the  United  States,  an  oftense 
under  the  fourth  subdivision  of  the  section  cited.  On  trial  the 
defendant  was  found  guilty  on  each  count  in  the  indictment, 
and  after  filing  a  motion  for  a  new  trial,  he  withdrew  the  same 
before  hearing,  and  demanded  judgment,  which  was  entered, 
and  is  in  the  following  form  :  'That  the  said  John  A.  Joyce, 
defendant,  be  imprisoned  and  confined  for  the  term  of  two 
years  in  the  Missouri  Penitentiary  under  the  fourth  count  of  the 
indictment,  the  first  term  to  commence  on  this  i3th  day  of 
November,  1875,  and  that  under  such  count  he  pay  a  fine  of 
$1,000,  and  he  be  further  imprisoned  and  confined  in  such 
penitentiary  for  the  term  of  eighteen  months  under  the  first, 
second  and  third  counts  of  the  indictment,  and  that  under  such 
counts  he  pay  a  fine  of  $1,000,  the  second  term  of  eighteen 
months  to  commence  on  the  expiration  of  the  first  term  of  two 
years,  and  said  two  terms  to  constitute  a  continuous  imprison- 
ment of  three  years  and  six  months. ' 

Joyce  in  his  petition  for  the  writ  of  habeas  corpus  claims 
that  the  four  counts  of  the  indictment  charge  but  one  offense, 
and  that  when  the  court  entered  judgment  on  one  count  it  ex- 
hausted its  power,  and  that  Joyce  having  served  his  sentence 


294 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE. 


of  two  years,  after  allowing  due  credit  for  good  behavior,  he  i 
entitled  to  a  discharge,  thus  virtually  claiming  that  the  con- 
spiring and  colluding  to  defraud  the  United  States  under  the 
fourth  division  of  section  3169,  and  under  the  ninth  division, 
the  having  knowledge  of  the  commission  of  offenses  against  the 
revenue  law,  and  failing  to  report,  are  one  and  the  same  of- 
fense. There  is  no  doubt  that  two  offenses — the  conspiring 
and  colluding  to  defraud,  and  the  having  knowledge  of  the 
violation  of  the  revenue  law  without  reporting,  may  be  com- 
mitted, for  they  have  no  necessary  connection ;  at  least,  a 
knowledge  of  the  violation  of  the  revenue  law  by  others  may 
be  had  without  the  person  having  such  knowledge  being  in  col- 
lusion to  defraud.  The  various  counts  of  the  indictment  under 
consideration  so  charge  the  offenses  as  to  connect  them  with 
the  conspiracy  to  defraud  entered  into  between  Joyce,  the  rev- 
enue agent,  and  Sheehan,  the  distiller. 

.  Joyce,  the  revenue  agent,  ought  to  have  known  that  others 
besides  the  distiller  must  violate  the  revenue  law  in  order  to 
carry  out  the  design  of  the  conspiracy  to  defraud,  for  without, 
such  violation  it  could  not  have  been  carried  out  and  made  ef- 
fective. Feineman,  the  rectifier,  was  made  the  willing  instru- 
ment in  the  conspiracy;  the  ganger  and  warehouse-keeper 
became  the  paid  tools. 

The  evidence  on  the  trial  was  all  directed  to  the  establish- 
ing of  the  conspiracy  to  defraud,  for  while  the  prosecution 
might  have  fallen  short  of  a  conviction  in  this  particular,  it 
could  still  have  succeeded  in  showing  that  Joyce  knew  of  vio- 
lations of  the  revenue  law  without  having  reported  them. 

The  proper  judgment  upon  the  verdict  rendered  was  for  this 
conspiracy  count.  The  present  inquiry  is,  Did  the  court  ex- 
ceed its  power  in  rendering  the  judgment  it  did  ?  There  is 
no  doubt  upon  my  mind  that  the  judgment  of  the  court 
should  have  been  but  for  one  offense,  and  had  the  motion  for 
a  new  trial  not  been  withdrawn,  but  considered,  it  is  probable 
that  on  consideration  the  conclusion  now  reached  would  then 
have  been  arrived  at.  This  happened  to  be  the  first  of  the 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE.  295 

long  line  of  whiskey  fraud  cases,  afterwards  tried  here  and  in 
other  courts,  and  well  do  I  remember  my  deep  anxiety  to 
bring  offenders  to  justice  on  the  one  side,  and  not  to  be  unjust 
to  the  defendants  upon  whom  outraged  public  opinion  was 
about  to  descend.  The  question  of  law,  it  must  be  admited,  is 
a  grave  one,  as  to  how  far  the  court  under  habeas  corpus  pro- 
ceedings can  review  its  former  judgment ;  for  it  amounts  to 
nothing  less  than  this.  Upon  the  point  of  pronouncing  on  the 
judgment  only,  upon  the  various  counts  of  the  indictments,  I 
have  the  full  support  of  decisions  rendered  in  the  Tweed  case. 
Upon  the  extent  of  the  power  of  a  court  to  review  its  former 
judgment  in  order  to  see  whether  it  had  power  to  pass  the  judg- 
ment it  did,  the  Supreme  Court  of  the  United  States,  in  Ex 
parte  Large,  i8th  Wallace,  has  passed.  But  above  all  I  feel  re- 
lieved, because  the  judgment  about  to  be  entered  can  be  re- 
viewed, and  the  various  questions  involved  authoritatively  set- 
tled on  appeal.  The  conclusions  arrived  at  are  that  the  indict- 
ment under  consideration  in  its  various  counts  charges  but  one 
offense  ;  that  when  the  court  entered  its  judgment  on  the  conspir- 
acy count  it  exhausted  its  power,  and  that  the  rest  of  the  judg- 
ment is  void ;  that  Joyce,  having  served  the  full  term  of  his 
sentence  of  two  years,  after  allowing  due  credit  for  good  be- 
havior, is  entitled  to  a  discharge,  which  is  granted  him." 

After  my  release,  the  United  States  District  Attorney  took 
an  appeal  to  the  Circuit  Court,  holding  over  me  a  tacit  threat 
and  weighing  me  down  with  the  lingering  chains  of  modern 
political,  policy  law. 

I  was  still,  like  Mahomet's  coffin,  suspended  between  earth 
and  sky,  and  felt  that 

The  young  and  the  old 

This  truth  may  unfold, 
That  things  cannot  always  go  right. 

Sometimes  you'll  be  sure 

Your  friend  is  as  pure 
As  streaks  of  the  sun's  brightest  light. 


296  A  CHECKERED  LIFE. 

But  as  clouds  may  arise, 
To  darken  the  skies, 

And  the  bright  light  of  noon  may  grow  dimmer, 
In  the  first  flush  of  youth, 
You  may  learn  this  sad  truth : 
"There's  a  great  many  holes  in  a  skimmer  !" 

In  order  to  knock  the  whole  bottom  out  of  the  Government 
"skimmer,"  I  concluded  that  a  full  and  unconditional  pardon 
would  be  the  best  thing  to  foil  the  blackmailers  and  pardon- 
brokers,  and  immediately  went  to  work  to  obtain  presidential 
clemency. 

On  my  way  to  Washington,  in  August,  I  stopped  for  a  day  at 
the  Palmer  House,  in  Chicago,  and  was  interviewed  by  repre- 
sentatives of  the  Times  and  Tribune,  whom  I  had  known  in  the 
days  of  my  political  power.  They  spoke  of  me  in  the  most 
charming  and  complimentary  manner,  and  even  the  editorial 
comments  were  flattering. 

Col.  Jack  Hinman,  of  the  Times,  one  of  the  best  newspaper 
men  in  the  United  States,  interviewed  me  for  his  journal,  and 
afterwards  introduced  me  to  Mr.  Storey,  the  sage  proprietor, 
who  treated  me  with  kindness,  and  talked  upon  the  philosophy 
of  the  whiskey  prosecution,  saying  that  it  was  all  "gjeat  cry  and 
no  wool !"  I  also  talked  with  the  late  Sam.  Medill,  of  the  Tri- 
bune, a  gentleman  of  fine  intellect  and  sterling  integrity. 

When  I  reached  Washington,  and  retired  to  my  home  on  the 
heights  of  Georgetown,  the  National  Republican  sent  a  very 
intelligent  young  man  to  interview  me  on  the  general  policy 
of  the  whiskey  prosecution.  Speaking  of  my  home  and  self, 
the  reporter  said  : 

"  The  walls  were  covered  with  paintings,  but  the  most  strik- 
ing picture  was  one  in  the  centre  of  the  room — a  full-length, 
well-executed  crayon  portrait  of  a  handsome  man  with  dark 
hair  and  a  moustache,  flashing  eyes,  and  of  rather  spare  figure, 
though  finely  formed.  It  was  a  portrait  of  Joyce  before  he 
entered  prison.  He  soon  came  down  stairs  in  his  shirt-sleeves. 


A  CHECKERED  LIFE.  297 

It  was  the  same  face  that  could  be  seen  in  the  picture,  but  the 
thick  hair  had  turned  prematurely  gray.  The  eyes  still  spark- 
led. The  figure  was  fuller.  Before  Joyce's  imprisonment  he 
weighed  150  pounds,  now  he  weighs  175.  Evidently  he  did 
not  worry  much  over  his  bad  luck.  Col.  Joyce  has  all  the  ap- 
pearance of  an  educated  Irishman.  His  features  are  regular 
and  handsome.  His  head  is  shaped  well,  and  his  forehead, 
encircled  by  iron-gray  locks,  is  high  and  intellectual.  He  has 
a  sort  of  half-military  air,  which  is  more  noticeable  when  he 
wears  his  hat — a  black  felt  of  the  military  pattern.  Though 
no  one  would  detect  the  least  "brogue"  when  he  talks,  his 
voice  is  Irish  in  its  richness  and  fulness.  Like  an  educated 
Irishman,  he  is  a  ready  and  voluble  talker,  and  forms  good 
round  sentences  as  fast  as  his  tongue  can  trip  through  them." 

On  the  morning  of  the  i8th  of  December,  1877,  I  was  in- 
troduced to  President  R.  B.  Hayes  by  Senator  William  B. 
Allison,  in  order  that  I  might  make  a  statement  touching  the 
justice  of  granting  me  a  pardon.  Other  good  friends,  like  Hon. 
W.  W.  Curtis,  of  Georgetown,  interceded  in  my  behalf,  and 
gave  testimony  to  my  general  character  for  truth,  faith  and 
honesty.  My  interview  with  the  President  lasted  about  half 
an  hour,  when  I  rounded  off  my  argument  with  the  remark  that 
if  I  could  not  be  granted  a  full  and  unconditional  pardon  on 
the  simple  ground  of  equal  and  exact  justice,  I  did  not  want  it. 

My  enthusiastic  statements  brought  smiles  and  interest  to  the 
President,  and  as  an  evidence  of  his  earnestness  I  found  lately 
that  he  wrote,  that  very  day,  the  following  letter  to  his  Attor- 
ney General : 

Executive  Mansion,  Washington,  D.  C.,  ) 

DEAR  GENERAL:  December  i8th,  1877.  } 

I  understand  that  John  A.  Joyce  has  served  out  his  time, 

and  that  application  is  now  made  to  relieve  him  from  the  legal 

disabilities  consequent  upon  his  conviction. 

If  the  grounds  as  presented  are  sufficient  to  warrant  that 

action,  I  shall  be  glad  to  have  it  done. 

I  will  call  in  the  morning,  and  talk  with  you  about  it. 

GEN.  DEVENS,  Very  truly?         R.  B.  HAYES. 

Attorney  General. 


EXECUTIVE  MANSION 

WASHINGTON. 


J. 

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A  CHECKERED  LIFE. 


299 


It  is  very  seldom  that  the  President  of  the  United  States  takes 
such  personal  interest  in  matters  of  pardon.  But  Mr.  Hayes  felt 
and  knew  that  I  had  been  the  victim  of  an  unholy  vengeance, 
run  off  into  the  forest  of  misfortune  as  a  scape-goat  for  the 
sins  of  the  Jubilee  conclave — a  first-class  vicarious  sacrifice. 
The  next  day  after  my  interview  with  the  President,  I  called 
at  the  State  Department,  and  Mr.Sevellon  Brown,  the  gentle- 
manly and  intelligent  chief  clerk,  handed  me  a  full  and  uncon- 
ditional pardon.  Thus,  after  a  fight  of  more  than  two  years 
with  the  United  States  Government,  it  bluntly  stultified  its 
own  action  by  a  successful  writ  of  habeas  corpus  and  pardon, 
restoring  me  to  every  right  I  possessed  before  Bristow's  Presi- 
dential bee  began  to  buzz  in  his  bonnet. 

What  a  commentary  on  human  justice  !  What  a  burlesque, 
trial  by  jury  !  What  a  model,  the  Judge  who  imposes  sentence 
on  the  rise  and  fall  of  public  opinon  !  The  punishment  for 
conspiracy  should  be  sharp,  short  and  decisive.  The  small  and 
the  great  should  be  dealt  with  according  to  their  responsibility, 
and  no  special  privileges  should  be  granted  to  any  one. 

Pardon  should  be  granted  to  the  innocent,  but  to  others  only 
under  extraordinary  circumstances ;  yet,  sad  to  say,  there  is  no 
privilege  this  side  of  the  grave  that  cannot  be  purchased  by 
money  and  political  influence. 

The  duplicate  cases  standing  against  me  in  St.  Louis  were 
so  weak  that  Wm.  H.  Bliss,  Dristrict  Attorney,  did  not  wish  to 
try  them.  The  perjured  witnesses  that  had  been  used  in  the 
hot  days  of  1876  had  not  the  inducement  to  lie,  since  the  ter- 
rors of  imprisonment  were  passed.  My  attoney,  ex-Governor 
Fletcher,  called  up  the  cases  and  they  passed  off  on  a  plea  in 
bar  and  demurrer,  by  the  rulings  of  Judge  Treat,  judgment  be- 
ing entered  in  my  behalf.  Thus  the  last  shot  in  the  blunder- 
buss of  Bristow  was  exhausted,  and  the  great  reform  boom  that 
went  up  like  a  rocket  came  down  like  the  stick. 

The  celebrated  apostrophe  of  Madam  Roland  to  the  statue 
of  Liberty,  on  her  way  to  the  scaffold,  might  well  have  this 
modern  rendition:  "Oh!  Reform,  Reform,  how  many  crimes 
are  committed  in  thy  name  !  " 


CONCLUSION. 

The  reader  who  has  followed  me  over  the  mountains,  valleys 
and  streams  of  this  "checkered  life"  deserves  commendation 
and  thanks ;  and  while  he  or  she  may  have  thought  that  some 
things  were  said  and  done  that  might  have  been  avoided,  yet 
in  the  usual  course  of  human  affairs  it  was  natural  to  do  and 
act  just  as  the  brain  and  heart  dictated. 

I  am  candid  to  acknowledg  that  I  have  had  sins  of  omission 
and  commission.  Who  has  not  ?  I  have  warmed  friends  to 
my  generous  bosom,  and  have  been  betrayed.  Who  has  not  ? 
I  have  seen  the  man  and  woman  I  supported  walk  on  the  other 
side  of  the  street,  fearing  to  look  at  the  man  who  had  saved 
them.  Who  has  not  ?  I  have  seen  human  lizards  sun  them- 
selves on  the  flowery  banks  of  prosperity,  and  fly  under  the 
stones  at  the  first  thunder-clap  of  adversity.  Who  has  not  ? 
I  have  seen  the  bad  and  corrupt  go  down  to  the  grave  of  re- 
spectability, while  the  impulsive,  good,  and  true  received  the 
shocks  of  misfortune,  and  died  in  disgrace  and  poverty.  Who 
has  not  ?  I  have  seen  many  varied  peculiarities  of  life,  but  I 
never  yet  saw  a  man  finally  forsaken  who  had  the  self-reliant 
power  to  stand  by  himself  and  defy  the  onslaught  of  a  rabble 
world. 

For  the  little  May-flies  of  fashionable  opinion  I  care  no 
more  than  for  the  idle  wind  that  wanders  o'er  the  lea ;  but  for 
those  true  hearts  that  can  separate  the  false  from  the  true,  and 
distinguish  right  from  wrong,  my  most  sincere  respect  is  en- 
listed. Let  us  all  live  and  act  for  the  honest  opinion  of  those 
who  know  us  best,  and  leave  the  rest  to  God. 

300 


\ 


ONLY  WORDS  LAST  FOREVER:' 


pOETIC 

WAIFS- 


JOHN    A.  JOYCE. 


301 


For  still  the  craft  of 

genitts  is 
To  mask  a  king  in 

weeds." 

'Ctirst  be  the  verse, 
how  zuell  soever  itflou 
That  tends  to  make  on 
honest  man  my  Joe. r 


302 


KISS  WHILE  YOU  CAN. 

KISS  while  you  can;  wait  not  for  to-morrow; 
The  form  that  you  love  may  wither  in  sorrow : 
The  lips  that  you  press  in  passion  to-day 
May  fade  in  a  moment,  and  vanish  away. 

The  dark  raven  locks  that  glisten  to-day 
Soon  are  supplanted  by  silvery  gray ; 
The  fire  in  the  eye  and  bloom  on  the  cheek 
Will  vanish  in  air,  then  others  we  seek. 

Cherish  the  heart,  and  the  brave,  hoary  head — 
True  in  old  age  as  when  first  they  wed ; 
Lavish  sweet  love  on  each  other  to-day; 
Remember,  my  darling,  we're  passing  away. 

Time,  in  his  flight,  will  not  stop  to  debate ; 
Richest  inducements  will  not  make  him  wait ; 
Then  while  he  is  here,  let's  brighten  his  hours, 
And  sparkle  and  shine  like  dew  on  the  flowers. 

Sigh  not  and  brood  not  o'er  gems  that  are  lost ; 
Year  after  year  buds  are  killed  by  the  frost ; 
Tears  will  not  bring  back  the  lips  that  are  fled — 
The  kisses  we  gave  are  gone  to  the  dead. 
303 


POETIC  WAIFS 

O        • 


KATIE  AND  I. 

\7  ATIE  and  I  sat  singing,  singing, 
JA.  As  the  moon  went  down ; 
While  bells  were  loudly  ringing,  ringing, 
In  the  far-off  town. 

Katie  and  I  sat  thinking,  thinking, 

Of  the  long  ago  ; 
Sweet  baby  fingers  lightly  linking 

Memories  under  snow. 

Katie  and  I  soon  sleeping,  sleeping, 

'Neath  the  silent  sod; 
Our  spirits  fondly  greeting,  greeting 

Children,  rest  and  God. 


MY  BABY'S    EYES. 

MY  baby's  eyes,  in  melting  blue, 
Are  beaming  bright  as  morning  dew 
And  from  the  sky  light  take  a  hue, 
Or  like  the  starlight,  clear  and  true. 

My  baby's  eyes,  in  liquid  roll, 
Enhance  my  world  from  pole  to  pole, 
And  love  sits  smiling  in  that  goal, 
Forever  speaking  to  my  soul. 

My  baby's  eyes,  in  other  years, 
May  fill  with  many  scalding  tears ; 
And  yet,  through  cruel  taunts  and  jeers 
A  mother's  love  will  banish  fears. 

My  baby's  eyes,  in  blight  or  bloom, 
Those  glorious  orbs,  in  grief  or  gloom, 
Shall  be  to  me,  in  dearth  or  doom, 
The  dearest  diamonds,  to  the  tomb. 


POETIC  WAIFS. 
TWENTY    YEARS. 

A    MEMORY    OF    MT.  STERLING,  KY. 

'PWENTY  years  are  gone  to-morrow 
1    Since  these  streams  and  hills  I  knew ; 
Twenty  years  of  joy  and  sorrow 
Brings  me  back,  dear  hills,  to  you. 

Many  friends  I  loved  are  sleeping 

On  the  crest  of  yonder  hill ; 
'Neath  the  willows  gently  weeping, 

Near  the  sound  of  Perry's  mill. 

Beaux  and  beauties  that  I  cherished 

Left  me  in  their  early  bloom, 
Yet  their  memory  never  perished 

With  the  blight  that  blurs  the  tomb. 

Raven  locks  no  more  are  shining ; 

Lost  and  gone  the  flowers  of  May; 
Yet  how  vain  is  all  repining 

In  my  crown  of  silver  gray. 

Vanished  voices  in  the  twilight 
Float  above  the  hill  and  plain ; 

Call  me  fondly  to  the  skylight, 
Thrill  my  heart  with  love  again. 


DREAMING. 

DREAMING,  dreaming,  only  seeming 
That  I  loved  you  long  ago ; 
Weeping,  weeping,  fondly  keeping 
Secrets  from  both  friend  and  foe. 

Thinking,  thinking,  lightly  linking 

All  the  hopes  that  filled  the  past; 
Peering,  fearing,  gently  nearing 

To  our  promised  joys  at  last. 

20 


3°5 


3o6  POETIC  WAIFS, 


THE    SUNBEAM. 

A  BEAUTIFUL  beam  came  into  my  cell, 
1\   Fresh  from  the  eye  of  Jehovah,  to  tell 
That  bolts  and  bars  cannot  keep  out  the  light 
Of  truth  and  justice,  of  mercy  and  right. 
It  checkered  the  flags  through  the  iron  door, 
And  danced  in  the  shadows  that  kissed  the  floor, 
And  loitered  about  in  a  friendly  way, 
Until  beckoned  home  at  the  close  of  day ; 
When  out  from  the  window  it  flew  on  high, 
And  hastened  back  to  its  home  in  the  sky. 
I  followed  the  beautiful  beam,  at  rest, 
To  a  sea  of  light  in  the  golden  west ; 
It  dropped  to  sleep  on  the  dark  blue  sea, 
And  left  me  the  sweetest  memory. 
I  turned  to  my  soul  for  calm  relief, 
Balm  to  my  wound,  a  check  to  my  grief — 
When  visions  of  glory  shone  from  above, 
Where  the  light  is  God,  and  God  is  love. 


A  TOAST. 

HERE'S  to  the  girl  of  gladness  and  beauty, 
Who's  always  alive  to  hope,  love  or  duty ; 
Who  fills  up  the  cup  and  empties  the  bowl 
To  the  choice  of  her  heart,  the  pride  of  her  soul. 
Who's  merry  and  happy  with  love,  song  and 

dance, 

Pleased  with  the  pleasure  of  life  in  a  trance — 
Sunshine  and  flowers  make  up  her  romance. 

Here's  a  toast  to  the  lass  so  kind,  true  and  free, 
Who  quaffs  off  a  cup  to  memory  and  me, 
And  wafts  o'er  the  billow  her  sighs  of  regret 
For  hours  that  are  gone  and  suns  that  are  set. 
One  changeless  as  fate,  who  loves  to  the  close 
Her  wandering  hero,  through  strife  and  repose, 
Fresh  in  her  beauty  as  dew  on  the  rose. 


POETIC  WAIFS  307 


GOD  IS  NEAR. 

GOD  is  near  upon  the  ocean, 
God  is  near  upon  the  land ; 
He  is  All,  both  rest  and  motion — 

We  are  only  grains  of  sand. 
Little  mites  upon  life's  billow, 

May-flies  buzzing  out  the  hour, 
Dreams  upon  a  fevered  pillow, 

Dew-drops  on  a  withered  flower. 
Only  waiting  for  to-morrow, 

That  has  never  come  to  man, 
Here  we  live,  in  joy  and  sorrow, 

Chasing  phantoms  as  we  can. 
Chasing  pleasure,  chasing  greatness, 

Over  tangled  walks  and  waves, 
But  we  learn  the  bitter  lateness 

Just  before  we  find  our  graves. 
Hope  is  nigh,  with  fairy  fingers, 

Tracing  sunbeams  on  the  way ; 
Magic  memory  ever  lingers, 

Busy  with  the  by-gone  day. 
Life  and  death  are  but  the  portals 

To  a  realm  of  endless  rest ; 
God  is  working  through  his  mortals ; 

All  in  some  way  shall  be  blessed. 


FORGETTING. 

rPHE  friends  that  I  loved  in  December, 
1    And  cherished  so  fondly  in  May, 
Have  long  since  forgot  to  remember, 

And  vanished  like  dew-drops  away. 
I  n  sunshine  and  power  I  was  toasted 

And  feasted  by  courtiers  so  kind ; 
And,  oh !  how  the  parasites  boasted 

Of  the  wonderful  traits  of  my  mind ! 
But  when  the  dark  hour  of  my  trouble 

Arose  like  a  storm  in  the  sky, 
The  vipers  began  to  play  double, 

And  forgot  the  bright  glance  of  my  eye. 


308 


POETIC  WAIFS. 


WAITING. 

HOW  well  I  remember,  darling, 
In  the  beautiful  long  ago, 
When  we  pledged  our  love  with  kisses, 
Down  by  the  brooklet's  flow, 
Where  the  shadows  come  and  go. 

Now  I  am  broken-hearted ; 

The  light  of  my  soul  hath  fled ; 

A  weary  pilgrim,  waiting 

To  join  the  ranks  of  the  dead, 
And  lay  down  my  weary  head. 

Alone  in  the  moonlight,  watching 
At  her  grave,  I  lay  me  low, 

While  the  winds  go  whistling  by  me, 
And  my  darling  under  the  snow. 
Buried  forever,  joy  with  woe. 


MATTIEVAN. 

I'M  dreaming  of  my  darling,  night  and  clay; 
My  life  with  her  is  one  sweet,  perfect  plan ; 
Her  bright  eyes,  like  the  sunshine  of  the  May, 
Sparkle  love,  and  whisper  :  "  Mattievan." 

Her  voice  comes  in  the  midnight  lone, 
And  lingers  at  my  pillow,  but  to  scan 

A  heart  that  beats  for  one  sweet  girl — my  own, 
My  darling  little  sweetheart — Mattievan. 

Just  see  her  in  the  waltz,  so  light  and  free ! 

A  jewel  on  the  breast  of  any  man. 
She  may  flirt  with  all  the  world  but  me — 

My  own  dear,  little  sweetheart — Mattievan. 


POETIC  WAIFS.  309 


MAZY. 

SHE  sleeps  on  the  hill,  near  the  crumbling  mill, 
And  my  mind  is  nearly  crazy 
When  I  note  the  hours  and  the  faded  flowers 
Gone  with  the  sun  and  the  daisy. 

Through  the  orchard,  wild  as  a  loving  child, 

She  sported  long  in  the  clover, 
And  the  blossoms  free,  from  the  apple  tree, 

She  heaped  on  her  pet  dog,  Rover. 

The  bees  she  chased,  in  her  laughing  haste, 

In  the  fields  and  nooks  so  sunny; 
With  roses  red  she  decked  her  head, 

And  life  was  sweet  as  honey. 

How  cruel  years,  with  hopes  and  fears, 
Have  furrowed  my  heart  and  features ! 

With  autumn's  blow  and  winter's  snow 
Comes  trouble  to  earthly  creatures. 

A  few  more  years,  and  a  few  more  tears, 

Will  waft  me  away  to  Mazy, 
And  I  shall  sleep  where  the  willows  weep, 

On  the  hill,  by  the  mill,  'neath  the  daisy. 


THE    FIRST  KISS. 

IN  the  month  of  November,  the  day  I  remember, 
Now  gazing  o'er  mountain  and  plain, 
My  heart  travels  back  to  that  flowery  track, 
And  lives  in  the  light  of  her  eyes  once  again. 

How  glorious  and  bright  were  the  stars  of  the  night 
With  the  whip-poor-will  tuning  his  song, 

When  our  hearts  were  so  true,  and  I  lov'd  only  you 
In  that  multitude  rushing  along. 


3io 


POETIC  WAIFS. 

The  day  never  comes,  and  the  night  never  goes, 
But  I  sigh  for  the  woodland  and  stream 

Where  we  sat  in  the  moonlight,  living  in  love 
In  that  bright,  sunny  land,  like  a  dream. 

Many  years  have  gone  by,  still  I  sadden  and  sigh 
For  the  musical  strains  of  the  past ; 

My  heart  fondly  turns  to  incense,  and  burns 
On  the  altar  of  love  to  the  last. 

One  by  one  we  step  out  to  that  land  full  of  doubt, 

Where  hope  only  leads  up  the  way 
To  a  realm  of  bliss,  where  an  angelic  kiss 

Bids  us  welcome  to  eternal  day. 

The  lips  of  an  angel  can  never  impart 

A  pleasure  so  pure  and  so  true 
As  I  felt  in  my  soul  and  my  fluttering  heart, 

In  the  moonlight,  when  first  I  kissed  you. 


MY  LITTLE  ROBINS. 

THE  twilight  deepens  in  the  rosy  west, 
My  truant  robins  seek  their  downy  nest ; 
All  day  long  their  little  feet  have  wandered, 
And  I  upon  their  sport  have  fondly  pondered, 
And  set  my  soul  upon  the  years  in  view 
When  baby  robins  shall  their  love  renew ; 
When  little  darlings  from  the  parent  home 
Will  spread  their  wings  in  other  climes  to  roam, 
And  leave  me  in  the  twilight  sad  and  lone, 
To  muse  upon  the  beauties  once  mine  own. 
Will  all  the  birdies  that  I  nursed  and  dandled 
Think  of  mother  dear  who  fondly  handled 
The  little  wings  and  tired,  tiny  feet 
That  snuggled  at  my  breast,  so  pure  and  sweet  ? 
And  will  the  winter,  with  its  chilling  snow, 
Bring  back  no  sunbeams  to  my  clouded  woe  ? 
Or  must  I  look  beyond  the  grass-grown  tomb, 
To  see  mv  sweet  ones  in  celestial  bloom  ? 


POETIC  WAIFS.  311 


MASONIC  BRIGHT  LIGHT. 

HERE'S  the  Templar  Knights  from  the  East  and  the  West, 
Children,  children,  won't  you  follow  me  ? 
From  the  North  and  the  South  we  all  march  abreast, 

Halle,  halle,  halle,  hallelujah  ! 
No  more  do  we  march  as  the  Gray  or  the  Blue, 

Children,  children,  won't  you  follow  me  ? 
But  our  plumes  are  white,  and  our  hearts  are  true, 
Halle,  halle,  halle,  hallelujah  ! 

CHORUS. 

In  the  morning,  in  the  morning,  by  the  bright  light, 
When  Gabriel  blows  his  trumpet  in  the  morning. 

As  a  warrior  band  we  march  to  the  fight, 

Children,  children,  won't  you  follow  me  ? 
Our  swords  shall  flash  in  the  cause  of  the  right, 

Halle,  halle,  halle,  hallelujah ! 
The  poor  and  the  weak  we  are  pledged  to  protect, 

Children,  children,  won't  you  follow  me  ? 
We  are  Christian  men,  without  any  sect, 

Halle,  halle,  halle,  hallelujah ! 

CHORUS. 

Then  up  with  the  Cross,  and  a  cheer  for  the  Crown ! 

Children,  children,  won't  you  follow  me  ? 
The  Crescent  of  the  Pagan  is  almost  down, 

Halle,  halle,  halle,  hallelujah  ! 
Then  hurrah  for  the  girl  we  all  love  best ! 

Children,  children,  won't  you  follow  me  ? 
From  the  North,  the  South,  the  East  and  the  West, 

Halle,  halle,  hallo,  hallelujah  ! 

CHORUS. 


312  POETIC  WAIFS. 


TOLL  THE   BELL. 

''POLL  the  bell  slowly,  meekly  and  lowly, 
1    There  comes  an  inanimate  clod, 
Sleeping  forever  beyond  the  dark  river — 
A  mortal  has  gone  to  his  God . 

Toll  the  bell  faintly ;  echoes  so  saintly 

Are  sounding  o'er  river  and  lea, 
Telling  the  living  all  need  forgiving 

Before  God  and  eternity. 

Toll  the  bell  lightly,  daily  and  nightly, 

A  spirit  is  watching  for  thee ; 
( )ne  that  has  loved  us,  one  that  has  proved  us — 

Some  fond  soul  who  loved  you  and  me. 

Toll  the  bell  sadly ;  heart-broken,  madly, 

We  kiss  the  cold  lips  of  the  dead; 
With  hope,  love  and  tears,  run  back  o'er  the  years* 

To  pluck  out  some  cruel  word  said. 


MY  WAR-HORSE,  "BOB.' 


IN  MEMORY  OF  COL.  CHAS.  D.  PENNYBACKER'S  PET. 


FAREWELL,  farewell,  my  beautiful  bay ! 
Sadly  I  sigh  for  your  loss  to-day ; 
My  thoughts  go  back  to  the  long  ago, 
Where  we  tramped  and  fought  with  the  deadly  foe 

Of  all  the  friends  that  I  ever  knew, 
None  served  me  so  kind,  so  brave  and  true. 
Ah !  how  shall  I  tune  this  nameless  lay 
In  memory  of  my  dear  old  bay  ? 

No  bugle  note  shall  ever  again 
Call  thee  to  muster  on  hill  or  plain  ; 
Where  passion  and  pelf  cause  men  to  bleed, 
No  more  shall  I  ride  my  gallant  steed. 


POETIC  WAIFS. 

In  the  days  of  war,  when  blood  flowed  free, 
We  campaigned  together,  you  and  me; 
Now  who  can  blame  me  to  grieve  and  sob 
For  losing  my  friend,  my  war-horse,  "  Bob." 

Brave  comrades  have  fallen  by  my  side ; 
In  the  battle  ranks  they  fought  and  died; 
Yet,  even  these  heroes,  young  or  gray, 
Were  not  more  prized  than  my  noble  bay. 


OCEAN    MEMORIES. 

YEARS  have  gone  by  since  we  met  at  the  sea, 
The  kiss  that  you  gave,  love,  lingers  with  me  ; 
Thrills  in  my  heart  like  an  angelic  tune, 
Perfume  distilled  from  the  roses  of  June, 
Silvery  light  from  the  face  of  the  moon. 

Lulled  to  repose  by  moan  of  the  ocean, 
Clasped  in  a  thrill  of  blissful  emotion, 
Sunlight  and  starlight  we  catch  but  a  rleam ; 
The  world  is  afloat,  we  live  in  a  dream, 
And  things  are  not,  surely,  all  that  they  seem. 

Your  secret  and  gem  I  still  fondly  keep 
So  close  to  my  heart,  awake  or  asleep ; 
The  world  has  no  treasure  dearer  to  me ; 
Unpurchased,  unsought,  love  without  fee, 
Was  that  soul-thrilling  gift  down  by  the  sea. 

Absent  and  lonely,  my  soul  flies  to  thee, 
Back  to  the  shore  of  that  sweet  summer  sea — 
A  land  where  the  vine  and  the  orange  both  bloom, 
And  silver  and  gold  its  mountains  entomb — 
A  paradise  planted,  rich  with  perfume. 

Sadly  I  sigh  for  your  living  embrace, 
Fancy  awakens  the  light  of  your  face ; 
Out  through  the  mists  of  yon  echoless  shore 
Angels  are  calling  my  lost,  loved  Lacore  ; 
Sighing,  I  pine  for  your  love  evennore. 


3I4  POETIC  WAIFS. 


WHEN    I  AM   DEAD. 

WHEN  I  am  dead,  let  no  vain  pomp  display 
A  surface  sorrow  o'er  my  pulseless  clay; 
But  all  the  dear  old  friends  I  loved  in  life 
Can  shed  a  tear,  console  my  child  and  wife. 

When  I  am  dead,  let  strangers  pass  me  by, 
Nor  ask  a  reason  for  the  how  or  why 
That  brought  my  wandering  life  to  praise  or  shame, 
Or  marked  me  for  the  fading  flowers  of  fame. 

When  I  am  dead,  the  vile  assassin  tongue 
Will  try  and  banish  all  the  lies  it  flung, 
And  make  amends  for  all  its  cruel  wrong, 
In  fulsome  prose  and  eulogistic  song. 

When  I  am  gone,  some  sage  for  self-renown 
May  urn  my  ashes  in  his  native  town; 
And  give,  when  I  am  cold  and  lost  and  dead, 
A  marble  slab  where  once  I  needed  bread. 

When  I  am  dead,  what  matters  to  the  crowd  ? 
The  world  will  rattle  on  as  long  and  loud, 
And  each  one  in  the  game  of  life  will  plod 
The  field  to  glory  and  the  way  to  God. 


THE  DAYS  ARE  GROWING  SHORTER. 

THE  days  are  growing  shorter  every  hour, 
And  all  the  sweets  of  life  are  turning  sour 
The  morning  dawns  to  me  without  a  plan, 
And  everything  seems  happy  but  frail  man. 

The  friends  I  knew  and  loved  in  former  years 
Have  vanished  like  the  sunshine  through  my  tears  : 
They  fill  my  soul  with  thoughts  of  long  ago, 
And  memory  brings  me  only  bitter  woe. 


POP:  TIC  WAIFS.  315 

Sweet  beauties  that  I  cherished  in  their  bloom 
Went  quickly  to  the  cold  and  silent  tomb, 
And  friends  that  were  the  dearest  unto  me 
Are  lost  beneath  the  moaning  weary  sea. 

The  evening  star  is  beaming  soft  and  lone, 
The  forest  trees  are  bending  with  a  groan, 
And  in  my  heart  there  springs  a  nameless  grief; 
The  grave  alone  must  bring  its  sure  relief. 

The  midnight  hour  approaches,  sad  and  still, 
Wild  phantoms  come  and  go  against  my  will ; 
Yet,  through  the  fearful  gloom  methinks  I  see 
A  vista  reaching  to  eternity. 


OAK   HILL. 

C^  RAND  home  of  the  dead !  I  mourn  as  I  tread 
\J  Near  the  forms  that  crumble  below ; 
How  sad  and  how  still  the  graves  at  Oak  Hill, 
In  the  quiet  evening  glow. 

Here's  an  old,  old  stone,  moss-grown  and  alone, 

Where  Time  has  left  not  a  trace 
Of  the  name  it  bore  in  the  days  of  yore, 

When  the  body  ceased  its  race. 

Vain,  vain  is  the  thought ;  no  man  ever  bought 

Exemption  from  final  decay; 
Vo  live  and  to  rot,  and  then  be  forgot — 

The  fate  of  the  quick  of  to-day. 


POETIC  WAIFS. 


THE   ATTORNEY-AT-LAW. 

A^  attorney-at-law  lately  put  up  his  shingle, 
And  had  scarcely  enough  of  the  specie  to  jingle  ; 
lie  said  to  himself:  "  I  shall  work  long  and  late 
To  find  a  rich  will  or  a  bankrupt  estate. 

So  he  sat  in  his  office  and  puffed,  day  by  day, 
Forming  rings  of  blue  smoke,  that  floated  away, 
While  with  Parsons  and  Kent,  and  Blackstone  and  Chitty, 
He  appeared  to  his  neighbors  so  wise  and  so  witty. 

At  length  a  rich  miller,  by  name  Calvin  Brown, 

Tn  search  of  a  lawyer,  came  into  the  town, 

AnJ  spying  a  smoker,  he  thought  he  would  pin  him, 


"Good  morning,"  said  Brown,  to  the  loid  of  the  laws 
"  I  've  come  to  consult  for  the  good  of  my  cause." 
"  Be  seated,"  said  Skin'em ;  "  I  know  you'll  be  gainer, 
But  first,  I  require,  now,  a  thousand  retainer." 

Brown  stared  in  surprise  at  this  heavy  demand, 
And  said  it  was  more  than  he  felt  he  could  stand ; 
But  the  "limb  of  the  law"  a  glance  at  him  flings, 
He  puffed  his  cigar,  and  went  on  making  rings. 

The  miller,  at  last,  like  the  fly  in  the  fable, 
Was  caught  in  the  web ;  where,  entirely  unable 
To  cope  with  the  spider  that  bled  him  so  neatly, 
He  gave  up  the  ghost,  and  passed  off  completetly. 

*  •*  *  *  •)«•  * 

Skin'em  is  now  the  sole  administrator  ; 
And  you  may  be  sure  that,  sooner  or  later, 
The  widow  and  orphans  of  one  Calvin  Brown 
Are  bereft  of  a  home,  and  put  on  the  town. 

Then  Skin'em  will  shine  as  a  brave  lady-killer 
On  plunder  he  filched  from  the  honest  old  miller, 
And  the  people  will  gaze  on  his  rich  turn-out, 
And  say  to  themselves  :  "  How  did  this  come  about? 


POETIC  WAIFS.  317 

Poor  dupes  !  you  are  fooled  by  the  gauze  and  the  glitter ; 
You  begin  with  the  sweet,  and  end  with  the  bitter ; 
And  fellows  like  Skin'em  lay  ever  in  wait 
To  pounce  on  the  bones  of  a  crumbling  estate. 

Thus  the  law,  you  must  know,  is  mruVa  for  the  rich, 
And  the  poor,  as  of  old,  are  left  in  the  ditch ; 
No  matter  what  rights  you  may  have  to  maintain, 
You'll  lose  in  the  end,  should  you  dare  to  "retain." 

Now  take  my  advice,  and  keep  out  of  the  law ; 
For  once  in  the  toils  of  its  ravenous  maw, 
You  are  sure  to  be  plucked,  without  mercy  or  grace, 
And  come  out  the  last  at  the  end  of  the  race. 


UNKNOWN. 

I  GAZED  on  the  babe  at  its  mother's  breast, 
And  asked  for  the  secret  of  life  and  rest ; 
It  turned  with  a  smile  that  was  sad  and  lone, 
And  murmured  in  dreaming:  "Unknown,  unknown.' 

I  challenged  the  youth  so  bold  and  so  brave, 

To  tell  me  the  tale  of  the  lonely  grave  ; 

Bat  he  sung  of  pleasure,  in  musical  tone, 

And  his  echoing  voice  replied  "  Unknown,  unknown. 

Then  I  questioned  the  gray-haired  man  of  years, 
Whose  face  was  furrowed  with  thought  and  tears ; 
And  he  paused  in  his  race,  to  simply  groan, 
The  soul-chilling  words  :  "  Unknown,  unknown." 

I  asked  the  lover,  the  poet,  and  sage— 
In  every  clime  and  every  age — 
To  tell  me  the  truth,  and  candidly  own 
If,  after  death,  it's  all  unknown,  unknown. 

I  soared  like  the  lark  to  the  boundless  sky, 
Sighed  in  my  soul  for  the  how  and  the  why  ; 


POETIC  WAIFS. 

The  angels  were  singing,  and  just  had  flown  ; 
I  heard  but  the  echo  :  "  Unknown,  unknown." 

I  read  in  the  hills,  and  saw  in  the  rocks, 
A  lesson  that  told  of  the  earthquake  shocks  ; 
I  gazed  at  the  stars,  from  a  mountain  cone, 
But  they  only  answered  :  "  Unknown,  unknown." 

Thus  am  I  tortured  by  fear  and  by  doubts 

In  tracing  the  way,  where  so  many  routes 

Are  ever  in  view,  but  quickly  are  flown, 

And  all  that  I  know  is :  "  Unknown,  unknown." 

At  last  I  determined  to  surely  find 

All  hope  and  all  bliss  in  my  mystic  mind  ; 

But  just  as  sweet  peace  came  to  soothe  me  alone, 

The  wild  witch  of  doubt  shrieked  :  "  Unknown  !  unknown 

The  sun  and  the  moon,  the  winds  and  the  wave, 
May  perish  in  time,  and  sink  to  the  grave ; 
The  temples  of  earth  shall  fade,  ctone  by  stone, 
And  mortals  still  wail  out:  "  Unknown,  unknown  " 

The  millions  of  earth  that  battle  to-day 
Are  but  a  handful  to  those  passed  away  ; 
The  future  is  countless ;  men  from  each  zone 
Shall  flourish  and  die  in  the  far-off  Unknown. 

We  come  like  the  dew-drops,  and  go  like  the  mist, 
As  frail  as  a  leaf  by  autumn  winds  kissed  ; 
Fading  away  like  the  roses  of  June, 
Wishing  and  waiting  to  meet  the  Unknown. 

Nature,  oh  !  Nature,  thy  God  I  adore  ; 
There's  light  in  thy  realm — I  ask  for  no  more  , 
From  the  seed  to  the  fruit  all  things  are  grown, 
Yet,  while  we  know  this,  the  cause  is  unknown. 

When  matter  and  mind  are  perished  and  lost, 
And  all  that  we  see  into  chaos  is  tossed, 
From  nothing  to  nothing  we  pass  out  alone, 
Like  a  flash,  or  an  echo — "  Unknown,  unknown." 


THE  UNIVERSITY  LIBRARY 
UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA,  SANTA  CRUZ 


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